


Clause for Women, Children, and Infirm

by BooksOfChange



Series: Clause for Women, Children, and Infirm [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous Age, Ambiguous Relationships, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Gen, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Other, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tony Is a Good Bro, Unknown Gender, horrible medical practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 76,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksOfChange/pseuds/BooksOfChange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“‘Captain America’ to me is who ‘Hulk’ is to Dr. Banner,” said Steve.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Captain America is like Hulk,” Tony repeated, as though trying to convince himself. </i>
</p><p><i>“He only shows up when I’m in danger, yes,” said Steve.</i> </p><p>The Super Solider Serum is more finicky than previously thought. It only works as intended for a very narrow range of people, and will turn them to Peak Human Condition only when danger is imminent. Otherwise, recipients will return to their pre-serum state (with some health improvements). In this world, Bruce finds himself assuming a fatherly role to Captain Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Avengers

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 account of BooksofChange in FF.Net <https://www.fanfiction.net/u/275758/Books-of-Change>

Bruce was shown black-and-white photos of Captain America when SHIELD found him in Calcutta. It hadn't been necessary. Anyone vaguely familiar with his namesake comics (e.g. Bruce) would've had no trouble spotting him. Impeccably muscled, broad-shouldered and towering a head above most people, Cap was as recognizable as a shining lighthouse at night. His handsome face, composed of a strong jaw, golden hair, and blue eyes, was on point with the comics. Bruce felt ancient when Cap reached out to shake his hand, for he couldn't help but notice Cap's skin was as flawless and smooth as a baby's butt.

"Dr. Banner," said Cap, and Bruce irrelevantly made a mental note that Cap's voice didn't sound perfect (not that he knew what a perfect voice sounded like).

"Oh, yeah, hi," said Bruce, awkwardly. "They told me you'd be coming."

"Word is you can find the cube," Cap said.

"Is that the only word on me?" Bruce asked.

"Only word I care about," said Cap.

Bruce wondered if charming honesty was part of Cap's original character or something the serum produced as he felt himself relax a little.

"Must be strange for you, all of this," said Bruce.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually awake," Cap admitted. "Except this. This is kind of familiar."

He waved at the vessel the two of them were standing on, its unnaturally flat surface teeming with aircraft, trailers, and military-looking personnel. Agent Natasha Romanoff joined their conversation at this point and warned them to hold their breath. As though on cue, the ground beneath their feet shook, and the roar of engines and flooding seawater pounded his ears. Both Cap and Bruce approached the edge to get a closer look.

"Is this is a submarine?" said Cap in wonderment, as two enormous turbines broke the ocean's surface.

"Really?" said Bruce, "They wanted _me_ in a submerged pressurized metal container?"

As if to answer his question, their vessel started to lift into the air.

"Oh, no. This is much worse," Bruce declared. Because it was. He figured it was harder to safely fail an aircraft than a submarine. Therefore the chances of the Other Guy escaping without causing too much death and destruction was lower in an aircraft. _Can even Captain America keep him down?_ Bruce mused, half-hysterically, as he glanced at Cap.

Bruce was startled and more than a little incredulous when he noticed Cap's bright blue eyes were full of guileless surprise. In fact, he looked like a kid who had no idea what kind danger he was in but was innocently enjoying sights hitherto unseen.

Then Bruce remembered Captain America's timeline and did the math. The results shocked him.

_He's … really young_ , he realized. _Wait, is he even legal?_

Before Bruce could pursue the thought any further, a tall, dark and black-clad person wearing an eyepatch interrupted him.

"Gentlemen," said Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.

Fury and Agent Romanoff escorted Bruce and Cap inside the Helicarrier. Captain Rogers assumed a grave military posture during the short trek. For all intents and purposes, he looked very much like the seasoned World War II veteran gearing for battle he was supposed to be.

Bruce, however, couldn't help but notice oddities every time he stole a look. The flawless smooth skin, which previously made Bruce envious, made no sense given Cap's age, race, and history of sun exposure. Captain Rogers was also lacking in facial hair. Given his hair color—dark blond—his chin should've been darker, even when clean-shaven.

Surely the agents of SHIELD, people who were presumably trained to notice things like this, knew this as well? What was he to make of SHIELD if they suspected what Bruce was suspecting, but chose to ignore it? Why did they even _bother_ to look for him anyway?

_I knew agreeing was a bad idea_ , Bruce groaned internally as Fury started talking about the Tesseract. After listening to his spiel, Bruce asked for spectrometers and blathered something about a Cluster Recognition based algorithm to see if anyone would call him on his bullshit. No one did. Clearly, Fury didn't care what Bruce did to find the Tesseract, as long as he found it.

And Bruce would help SHIELD find it. Agent Romanoff presented the situation in a way that made it clear if they didn't find the Tesseract, there wouldn't be an earth worth living in. And it would just be his luck the Other Guy would survive a planetary catastrophe while everyone else didn't.

"Agent Romanoff, would you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please," said Fury.

"You're gonna love it, Doc," said Romanoff, "We got all the toys."

_Aaaah, nope,_ Bruce thought as he followed after her.

oooo

Bruce was left alone in the lab after Agent Romanoff took him there. Bruce took this as a peace offering from SHIELD and went to work. He first downloaded all the code he needed from an open-source website and then edited the code to suit his purposes. He then let the program run and started shifting images around on a holograph-screen to make it look like he was busy.

Bruce was just starting to relax when the laboratory door opened, and Captain Rogers stepped in.

"Mind if I stay here?" he asked. For someone so large, it was remarkable how well he could imitate the look of a golden retriever puppy pleading for something.

"Uh, no, go ahead," said Bruce. "I'm just waiting for the results."

Cap murmured his thanks, pulled up one of the wheeled stools and sat on it. Bruce returned to his holograph screen and pretended to read lines of code. He inexplicably felt obligated to make small talk, but he had exactly nothing to say. That left Bruce feeling flustered and awkward.

Thankfully, Cap took up the slack:

"How exactly are you doing the search?" he asked.

Bruce rambled at some length, trying his best to describe computers and algorithms to someone who had no context. Cap frowned through the jumbled explanation.

"So it's a Turing Machine?" Cap asked uncertainly.

Bruce's heart leaped. "Yeah … yeah, it's a Turing Machine made real. We call it computers."

Cap nodded. He was smiling happily, perhaps feeling quite proud of himself for making sense of one bewildering thing about the 21st Century.

"So, uh, how do you know about Turing Machines?" Bruce asked. He didn't know much modern American history—and he certainly didn't know anything about the Sci-Fi scene during the thirties and forties—so he wasn't sure where Cap may have learned the concept.  _Metropolis,_ perhaps?

"I met Alan Turing," said Cap. "He explained his 1938 dissertation to me over dinner."

Bruce violently suppressed the urge to scream and flail his arms around. Barely.

"You. Met _Alan Turing_ ," he squeaked.

"The US Navy invited him so he could help them crack naval Engimas," Cap said. "My squad was stationed at Washington at the time. Howard Stark—Anthony Stark's father— introduced me to him."

"When was this?" Bruce asked.

"Fall of 1942," said Cap.

There was another period of silence, during which Bruce struggled to pick a question he wanted to ask first. Cap just watched him, patient, and perhaps a little amused.

"You were part of a squad?" Bruce eventually asked.

Cap nodded.

"Like, a squad of Super Soldiers?" Bruce asked.

Cap nodded again. "They called us the Invaders."

"I, uh, thought you were the only successful one," said Bruce.

Cap's smile turned wry.

"Depends on what you mean by successful," he said. "Senator Brandt thought I was a failure. Worse than Willie, even."

Bruce was about to ask who Willie was when Nick Fury's voice echoed through the comms.

"We found Loki," he said. "Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse. Captain, you're up."

"Sorry, gotta go," said Cap apologetically.

Bruce nodded. "Tell me more later?"

Cap smiled. "Sure."

oooo

Bruce left the laboratory several minutes after Cap departed. After wandering around a bit, he headed towards the Bridge. There he was confronted with three large holograph screens that showed Cap marching towards Loki, his iconic shield in hand. Cap looked awe-inspiring despite being dressed in WWII style battledress, fire-truck red boots, a stupid helmet that had a large 'A' on it, and a blue Kevlar shirt that had a large white star in the middle (Bruce assumed the khaki jacket was hiding the red and white stripes).

"You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing," said Cap's voice over the speakers.

Loki's response wasn't transmitted, but everyone could see he was talking.

"That's not the uniform we had prepared," Agent Hill noted while Cap slowly closed the distance between him and Loki.

"Cap said he prefers to go to battle with familiar equipment," said Agent Coulson. Though his expression was bland, Bruce thought he detected a droop on his shoulders.

"At least he wore the shirt," said Agent Hill, smiling.

"Only because it doubles as armor," said Agent Coulson with a sigh.

Fury smirked. "Cheer up Coulson. He might be saving it for the finale."

Just then Bruce heard Agent Romanoff's voice ordering Loki to drop his weapon and stand down. Loki looked up, briefly, and his grip around the scepter wavered for a moment.

Abruptly he pointed the scepter at Cap and fired a beam of light. For one heart-stopping moment, Bruce thought Cap was down: he was on the floor and his shield was rolling away.

Then on the next blink, there was a flash of movement, and red boots shot up to Loki's neck. The next thing he knew, Cap was upside-down, his legs locking Loki in a chokehold, and the arm holding the scepter in his grip. Cap did a quick full-body twist, and Bruce cringed as he saw Loki elbow break.

"Good to know Cap doesn't f#$ around," said Fury, admiration tinting his growl.

On the screen, Cap rolled backward, the scepter in his grasp. He picked up his shield and got back to his feet in one smooth move. There was a moment of stillness as Cap stood like a warrior king, armed with shield and scepter.

Then Iron Man landed next to Cap in all his red and gold glory.

"Give up, Reindeer Games," said Tony Stark's voice. "I must say, you're pretty spry for an older fellow. What's your thing? Pilates?"

"What?" Cap said, eyes still on Loki.

"It's like calisthenics," said Stark. "You might have missed a couple things, you know, doing time as a Capsicle."

"Cut the chatter, Stark," Fury said before Cap could reply. "Agent Romanoff, you got this?"

Agent Romanoff repeated her previous demands. For encouragement, Iron Man raised a hand and aimed a pulse reactor at Loki, and Cap pointed the scepter he'd just captured. A small SHIELD aircraft hovered overhead, machine gun ready to engage, presumably.

Loki studied his audience for a long-drawn moment. He was in bad shape—his back was hunched, and his left arm was dangling uselessly to his side. Yet Bruce couldn't help but shiver as he studied his eyes. _He's a monster. Run._ They told him.

At last, Loki put up his unhurt hand up, in a universal gesture of surrender.

"Good move," said Iron Man.

"Mr. Stark," said Cap, now lowering the scepter.

"Captain," Stark returned.

Agent Romanoff came down and joined Iron Man and Captain America. Bruce let out the breath he didn't know he was holding as he watched the three escort Loki to the SHIELD mini-jet, and massaged his chest in an effort to calm his pounding heart.

_Holy Sh!t f# & this is too much, _Bruce gibbered in his head.

oooo

Bruce rather hoped they would have a long break before next fight. Alas, just after Loki was taken inside the mini-jet, his brother Thor appeared and snatched him away. Iron Man and Cap chased after the two, at which point Bruce gave up and sequestered himself in the lab.

Bruce was forced to participate when Cap, Stark, and Thor returned to the Helicarrier, Loki in tow. Cap and Agent Romanoff took Bruce to a conference room, where they found Thor pacing. Romanoff fiddled with the controls, and before long they were all watching Fury Interrogate Loki while the latter was locked in a glass cell. Bruce had no doubts left over Loki's sanity as he listened.

"…He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Bruce said after Fury stormed out.

"Like gangrene," said Cap dryly. "Thor, what's his play?"

Thor told them about the Chitauri, and the bargain Loki must have made with them: they would help him conquer earth in exchange for the Tesseract.

"So the Tesseract is worth an army from outer space," said Cap. "That being the case, why did he let us capture him so easily? He's not leading an army from here."

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki," said Bruce. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him."

Immediately, Thor was on him.

"I do not care how you speak!" he said hotly. "Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he's my brother!"

"He killed eighty people in two days," said Romanoff.

Thor visibly took a mental step back.

"…He's adopted," he muttered.

Tony Stark made his entrance after this. Bruce was thrilled to have someone who could think as quickly as he did as the two of them reasoned: 1) Loki needed a portal to bring the Chitauri, hence his decision to mind-control Eric Selvig, and 2) Agent Barton stole the Iridium in Germany because it was a portal-stabilizing agent; however 3) the portal needed a power source capable of generating hundred and twenty million Kelvins of energy, which meant 4) he would search for a Heavy Ion Fusion Reactor.

"Finally, someone who speaks English," said Stark, after the glorious mind-meld.

"Is that what just happened?" said Cap, looking bemused.

Stark ignored him and shook Bruce's hand.

"It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled," he said, positively sparkling with enthusiasm. "And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."

Bruce felt charmed, almost in spite of himself. "Thanks."

"Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube," Fury said, stepping in. "I was hoping you might join him."

"Are you going to anything about the stick?" asked Cap. "It works a lot like a Hydra weapon."

"We know it's powered by the cube," said Fury. "And I want to know how Loki used his stick to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys."

"Monkeys? I do not understand," said Thor, confusion writ clearly on his face.

"I do!" said Cap.

Everyone turned to stare at him. At that moment, Bruce swore he caught a glimpse of the child behind Captain America, and heartily wished he didn't see it.

"I understood that reference," Cap went on, grinning like a boy.

Bruce looked down. Tony rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, Banner, let's go do some science."

oooo

Bruce guided Tony to the lab while … _Steve_ stayed behind with Agent Coulson (it sounded like he was trying to convince Steve to wear the rest of his SHIELD-issued Captain America uniform; Bruce wished him luck). Soon the two of them were bantering about Gamma Rays and CPU. It was almost as if he was back working at his old research lab.

"You know, you should come by Stark Tower sometime," said Tony. "Top ten floors, all R&D. You'd love it. It's candy land."

Bruce was honestly tempted. "Thanks, but the last time I was in New York I kind of broke … Harlem."

"Well, I promise a stress-free environment," said Tony. "No tension, no surprises …"

Bruce jumped when he felt an electrical shock where Tony prodded him with a thin metal rod.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, more surprised than hurt.

Tony stared at him closely. "Nothing?"

_Ohmygod, you have no sense of self-preservation_ , Bruce thought. "No."

"You've really got a lid on it, haven't you?" said Tony. "What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed? Sorry about that, by the way."

"It's all right," said Bruce. "I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things."

Tony grinned.

"So what do you think of Nick Fury?" he asked, out of the blue.

Bruce closed his mouth and just stared.

"It's bugging you, too, isn't it?" said Tony, pressing.

"Uh … I just wanna finish my work here, and…" Bruce stuttered.

"C'mon, you must've thought about it," Tony went on relentlessly. "Why did Fury call us and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? It's almost a given he's hiding something. He's a spy – _the_ spy. His secrets have secrets."

Tony stared down at Bruce until he relented.

"' _A warm light for all mankind to share_ '," Bruce started. "Loki's jab at Fury about the cube. Well, I think that was meant for you."

"Stark Tower," said Tony, nodding, "powered by Stark Reactors, a self-sustaining energy source. Still just a prototype, but it should keep the building running off-grid for at least a year."

"Yeah, I saw that on the news," said Bruce. "So why didn't SHIELD bring you in on the Tesseract project? I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?"

"Who knows?" said Tony. "I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now, and that's because it's not all that profitable. Yet. I should probably look into that once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files."

"Since when did you…"

"Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours, we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide."

Bruce adjusted his glasses and let out a soft chuckle. "You're really something."

"Thank you," said Tony, now taking a step back and offering the bag he was holding. "Blueberry?"

"Nah, I'm good," said Bruce. "Hey, what d'you think of Cap?"

The smile on Tony's face packed up and left at the question. Curious, Bruce thought.

"What about him?" Tony grumbled.

"There's something fishy about him being here," said Bruce. "I mean, he's good, and I'm glad he's on our side, but why was SHIELD looking for him? The most reasonable thing for them to expect was a corpse. I don't think SHIELD is in the business of finding dead war heroes."

"Unless they were hoping to find something buried _with_ his body," said Tony, dark eyes glinting. "The Tesseract was one of the many Hydra things Cap took down with him. The other stuff was probably what SHIELD was after. Finding Captain America alive was just a bonus. So the question is: What did they find? And how long has he been awake?"

"Three weeks."

Bruce jumped and Tony swirled around. Captain Steve Rogers was standing at parade rest by the door. The sight of his pale and unreadable face made Bruce want to launch himself out of a window.

"Eavesdropping? Really? Shouldn't that be above one of our nation's beloved icons?" Tony shouted.

"Making a person an icon never ends well," said Steve dryly. "You two should be focusing on the cube."

"You think I'm not?" snapped Tony.

"I know you're breaking into SHIELD's intelligence network. That's working against an ally," said Steve sternly.

"They shouldn't worry about what I can find if they've got nothing to hide," Tony argued.

"The very fact you're breaking into their system screams hostile," Steve retorted. "Look, I understand you're suspicious. I've been wondering why anyone would bother to wake me up ever since I found myself in a salt bath. Seeing Iron Man and Thor in action only made me wonder even more. But now is not the time. Loki is a man who means to start a war, and if we don't stay focused, he'll succeed."

There was silence for a beat, during which Bruce willed himself to turn invisible.

"Did you come up with that speech on the spot or did you write it down?" Tony drawled.

"Impromptu speeches come with the job," Steve said.

"Clearly," Tony snorted. "Now you mentioned my suit. It obviously bothers you. What's up?"

"Can you make it so it can be piloted remotely?" Steve asked, without missing a beat.

"Of course," said Tony.

"And you can mass-produce them if need be?"

"Sure, why not."

"I bet the DOD tried to get you to sell your suit to them," said Steve.

"They wanted me to hand it over for free," Tony crossed his arms. "I said no."

"I see they haven't changed," Steve remarked.

"Their cheapness is a timeless constant," said Tony. "Right. I see how you put two-and-two together: why take a chance on an old hero when you have the option of mass-producing remotely controlled Iron Man armors instead. Congratulations, you're not dumb. So you acknowledge you're not of much use?"

Steve merely frowned at the cruel jab.

"Just find the cube," he said in a low voice. Then he walked out.

"That went well," said Bruce.

"He started it," said Tony petulantly.

"You know the guy's half our age," said Bruce. "And he's not wrong about Loki. He does have the jump on us."

"What Loki's got is an ACME dynamite kit," Tony scoffed. "It's gonna blow up in his face, and I'm gonna be there when it does."

"And I'll read all about it," said Bruce.

"Uh-huh," said Tony, "Or you'll be suiting up like the rest of us."

"Ah, see, I don't get a suit of armor," said Bruce, "I'm exposed, like a nerve. It's a nightmare."

Tony seemed to study Bruce for a moment.

"You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel trying every second to crawl its way into my heart," he said, pointing to his chest, where one could see a blue orb of light through the black T-shirt. "This stops it. This little circle of light. It's part of me now, not just armor. It's a terrible privilege."

"But you can control it," Bruce pointed out.

"Because I learned how," Tony countered.

Bruce shook his head. The warm ' _oh, you too_? _I thought I was the only one…_ ' feeling from earlier faded away as disappointment threatened to overtake him.

"It's different."

oooo

SHIELD's intention to use the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction capable of deterring hostile extraterrestrials came to light not long after the confrontation inside the lab. Steve discovered a weapon designed to use the cube as a power source ("Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow for me"), and Tony's AI uncovered its corresponding weapon plans. Bruce was thoroughly upset by the time Fury 'fessed up but refused to show any form of remorse.

"You forced our hand," said Fury, glaring at Thor. "We had to come up with something."

"A nuclear deterrent, 'cause that always calms everything right down," Tony drawled.

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?" Fury snapped.

"I quit the weapons manufacturing business years ago, in case you forgot," Tony shot back.

"I thought humans were more evolved than this," said Thor.

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Fury retorted.

"You speak of control, yet you court chaos," Thor growled.

"It's his M.O.," said Bruce, blood pounding his ears. "I mean, what are we, a team? No, no, no, we're a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We're … we're a time-bomb."

Fury looked at Bruce and turned grim. "You need to step away," he said.

"Why?" said Tony. "Why shouldn't the guy let off a bit of steam?"

"Because that's not the way to treat anger," Steve said. "Let it out a little, and you just keep smashing things until there's nothing left."

Bruce stared at Steve, startled at his insight.

"Oh, you're a therapist in your spare time, Rogers?" said Tony sarcastically.

"I just know how anger works," said Steve.

"Yeah, I suppose you would, seeing as you're all about justice and righteous anger," said Tony mockingly.

Steve grit his teeth. "You don't want me angry at you, Stark. Back off."

"Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me," Tony goaded.

"Is that a challenge?" asked Steve, his voice now simmering with anger. "I should warn you, I don't back off from a fight."

Tony glared back. "Good, neither do I," he said.

Thor laughed.

"You people are so petty and tiny," he said, and Bruce found his rage boiling higher, if only because Thor was _right._

Fury must've sensed this because he said:

"Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his…"

"Where?" Bruce snapped. "You're renting my room."

"The cell is just…"

"In case you needed to kill me!" said Bruce, practically shouting. "But you can't! I know, I tried!"

Steve and Tony stared at him. Bruce cast his eyes down when he saw the look on their faces.

"…I got low," Bruce muttered. "I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the Other Guy spit it out. So I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk."

He snapped his glare at Romanoff, against whom he felt disproportionate rage.

"You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff?" he shouted. "You wanna know how I stay calm?"

Bruce heard, rather than saw, Fury reach for his side-arm. But before things blew up, Steve said:

"Dr. Banner put down the scepter."

Bruce stilled. He looked down to his left and found Loki's scepter in his hand. He had no recollection of picking it up, and that frightened him.

At that same moment, the computer blared an alarm.

"Sorry, kids," said Bruce, as he put down the scepter. "You don't get to see my party trick after all."

oooo

Bruce found his inability to recall what the Other Guy did both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he didn't want to know the Other Guy's inner workings. On the other hand, he always had to confront the aftermath of the Other Guy's rampage without any idea what drove him there.

This didn't mean he couldn't recall what happened while he transformed. He certainly had hazy memories of when all hell broke loose in the Helicarrier. He'd fallen through the floor, he remembered that, and Steve jumped after him.

"Doctor Banner!" Steve shouted. "Don't give in! You're going to be okay!"

Bruce remembered growling and grunting as his consciousness faded in and out. His veins and muscles felt like they were on fire, and he could hear his clothes tearing.

"I'll get you out of this!" Steve shouted, as though from a distance. "I swear I'll get you out of this, you'll walk away, I promise!"

" _You promise_?" Bruce heard the Other Guy snarl.

Then everything went black.

Bruce woke up some unaccountable time later, naked and in an abandoned building. An old man told him what happened (no one hurt; fell through the ceiling, big and green and buck ass nude), and kindly gave him trousers to wear.

"Thank you," said Bruce.

"Are you an alien?" the old man asked as Bruce dressed.

Bruce stared at him. "What?"

"From outer space, an alien?" the old man asked again.

"No," said Bruce.

"Well then, son, you've got a condition," the old man deadpanned.

_f*^$ yeah,_ Bruce thought.

Once clothed, Bruce borrowed a motorcycle and drove to Manhattan, where it was very obvious aliens were wreaking havoc. There he found the rest of his team—plus a man with a bow and arrows he later learned was Agent Barton—fighting. Bruce noted Steve was in WWII battledress with the Captain America Kevlar shirt underneath. Just like before. Clearly, he refused to budge on the subject of what was suitable for battle.

"So, this all seems horrible," said Bruce.

"I've seen worse," said Romanoff.

Bruce smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"No, we could use a little worse," said Romanoff.

Steve flashed a relieved grin at Bruce before he talked to the skies.

"Stark, we have Banner, just like you said."

Bruce didn't get to hear what Tony said in reply, but soon enough he saw Iron Man flying towards their direction, with a giant alien worm ship chasing after him.

"I don't see how that's a party," Romanoff declared as she stared at the horrible sight.

"Dr. Banner now might be a good time let out your anger," Steve said.

Bruce looked back at Steve as he walked towards the Chituari. The ' _Oh, you too? I thought I was the only one…_ ' feeling warmed his chest once more.

"I see you know my secret, Captain," said Bruce. "I'm always angry."

Then everything went black again.

oooo

The battle was long over when Bruce came to for the second time. Tony summarized what had happened while the team ate Shawarma in tired silence.

"So Coulson never got to see Cap in full uniform?" Bruce asked because he was an awkward man who didn't know how to ask the right questions after a lengthy Hulk-out.

"No," said Tony, without meeting his eye.

Agents Barton and Romanoff glanced at Steve, who was dozing next to Thor. It was impossible to divine what either agent was thinking. At length, the two simply return to their meals. Bruce interpreted it as 'sentiment; but if only'.

The six of them crashed in Stark Tower since it the closest habitable building in the vicinity that still had power. Bruce wanted to talk to Steve, ask him how he figured out his secret, but Steve crashed on the living floor and fell fast asleep. Bruce didn't have the heart to wake him up, so he went to the guest suite Tony assigned to him and spend the night thinking:

Steve clearly understood the rage that fueled Bruce's transformations. It followed then Steve's own transformation had some basis on rage. Captain America mythology stated pre-serum Steve Rogers had a fighter's heart, but not a fighter's body, and all the serum had to do was bring his body to the same level as his heart. Bruce didn't think it was a stretch to conclude Steve grew up harboring a lot of anger and frustration due to his chronic health problems if nothing else. So it was possible the Other Guy and Captain America had more things in common than previously thought.

But Bruce had to consider the counter-arguments. For one thing, their transformations had glaringly different results: Steve gained physical perfection post-serum and Bruce … turned big, ugly and green. More importantly, whereas Bruce's transformations were in some sense temporary, Steve's was permanent.

Or was it? Bruce remembered Steve warning Tony to not make him angry in the Helicarrier. Was this him hinting Captain America had a … berserker state? Or was it merely him not wanting to fight someone on the same team? Not for the first time, Bruce mourned the lack of good data on the Serum.

And immediately felt guilty for wanting it. Bruce wasn't proud of his participation in the Project Rebirth: Reboot. Even if he hadn't known the project's purpose was recreating the legendary super-soldier serum, he'd known he was entering immoral ground when General Ross recruited him to the project. He should've turned and run the other way when he understood what it was about. Even now he felt ashamed of what he did.

That said, the project was still the most intellectually satisfying job he'd ever done. It bridged physics, biology, and nanotech together in ways never seen before. He still remembered the wild excitement he shared with Betty Ross as they deciphered the constituents of the human genome that contributed to making a super soldier. The discoveries they made on epigenetics alone was mind-blowing. In the end, Bruce was confident he'd reversed-engineered the famed serum and in fact improved upon it. So, naturally, he tried it on himself.

It was THE stupidest thing he'd ever done in his life. Bruce couldn't imagine ever topping it. He probably would, though, if only because he thought himself incapable of committing greater acts of stupidity.

Bruce stopped his thinking in the wee hours of the morning. His decision was to leave Steve alone and not bring up the subject. If Steve had a berserker state, then it was better SHIELD didn't know. They would treat him like they treated the Other Guy, and Bruce didn't wish that on anyone. Steve had more than enough to deal with, seeing as he was brought to life without his consent. And wasn't that a tragically funny thought: being forced to live because you aren't allowed to die.

"I wonder if he wishes he was dead," Bruce said to the ceiling.

oooo

Thor declared his intention to return to Asgard with the Tesseract and Loki the next day. SHIELD didn't argue but sent several agents to guard the designated teleportation site's perimeter. The Avengers (Tony said that was their team name) went with them to say their goodbyes to Thor.

"It was an honor fighting with you all, Midgard's mightiest warriors," Thor pronounced.

"Honor was ours," said Steve. "I hope we keep in touch."

"We shall," said Thor solemnly. "I will keep watch over you, and stand by your side in battle when need be." He grasped Steve's hand. "Farewell."

Thor pointed his hammer to the skies. There was a blinding flash, and on the next blink, both he and Loki were gone. Everyone stared at the stormy skies afterward, speechless.

"Oh, well, that's that," said Tony lightly. "Okay, SHIELD agents, time for you to go."

He made shooing gestures at Barton, Romanoff, and their SHIELD colleagues. They dutifully left the site, and soon it was just Bruce, Steve, and Tony. For a while, no one seemed to know what to do.

"Mr. Stark," said Steve, breaking the awkward moment. He held out a hand.

Tony nodded and held out his own hand. "Captain."

They were just about to shake hands when Steve suddenly froze.

"Cap?" said Tony, frowning.

Steve didn't answer. Or rather, couldn't. Tremors seemed to overtake him. Then he hunched over, and slowly sank to his knees as though in pain. Bruce heard himself shout for help as Steve literally shrank before his eyes.

Then, as abruptly as it started, it was all over. Steve shakily straightened himself, and Bruce felt his jaw drop as he took in the changes.

Steve was now an inch shorter than Tony, and maybe half of Bruce's weight. His clothes hung on his thin frame like an oversized pillow case propped on sticks. His cheeks were gaunt and his skin was so pale it was practically translucent. Overall, Steve looked like a tall, sickly twelve-year-old (and Bruce devoutly hoped he was wrong on his age estimate).

"Damn," Steve muttered, whilst holding onto the beltline of his pants to stop them from departing company from his legs. He didn't look at all surprised at his transformation.

"The _hell_?!" Tony squawked. "What just happened?"

"I shrunk," said Steve.

"I can see that," Tony snapped. "I need elaboration!"

Steve grimaced. Then he sighed.

"'Captain America' to me is who 'Hulk' is to Dr. Banner," said Steve.

The human silence that met this announcement was long and deafening.

"…Captain America is like Hulk?" said Tony slowly, like he was solving an abstruse problem whilst drunk.

Steve nodded.

"Captain America is like Hulk," Tony repeated, as though trying to convince himself.

"He shows up when I'm in danger, yes," said Steve.

Bruce blinked. "Really."

"Yes, really," said Steve. "I don't have full control over his appearances, but I can shrink back when I really want to. I usually don't let him out for more than three weeks," A pause, "he can stay out longer, but that's dangerous."

"Why?" Bruce asked stupidly.

"You lose your mind," said Steve quietly. "The guys in my old squad … most of them couldn't shift back or chose not to. Willie Burnside went insane. Bradley died of early dementia. Mike and Grant were killed in action, but they showed signs long before that. And James…"

Steve looked away. A painful silence fell upon them. Bruce was frankly too stunned to speak. He didn't know how to take all this.

Then Tony spoke up:

"You, in the car," he said, pointing at Steve.

Steve frowned. "What?"

"Get in the car, Rogers," barked Tony. "There's no way you can drive your bike looking like that. You'll get pulled over."

"I have a helmet."

"Helmet's not going to help you. You look like you stole your grandpa's preppy clothes."

"But I have to – go back to SHIELD," Steve murmured.

Tony's eyes flashed at this comment.

"No, you don't," he said, voice rising. "I read SHIELD's secret file on you. They view you as a weapon. You know that right? If you go back to SHIELD, they're going to give you two options: Either you work for them as an agent or put you back into deep freeze. Either way, they get to keep you and take you out whenever they feel like using you. You can't tell me either one is something you want."

Silence.

For a while, Bruce didn't know what made him more appalled: SHIELD's plan for Steve or the way the light in Steve's eyes dimmed and faded away. In the end, it didn't matter because Steve said:

"Maybe it is."

… And after that, all Bruce could think was: _NO_. _No, no, no, no, don't do it, don't do it, don't give up, please don't, f#^ SHIELD, I'm going to sic the Other Guy at them…_

Impulsively, Bruce reached out and _grabbed_.

"Listen," he said, babbling. "You … you don't have to decide now. Give yourself a day or two. At least one. Oh, and tell me about your dinner with Alan Turing. The curiosity's killing me."

Steve blinked. Then he blinked again. He looked down at the hand clutching his bony wrist and frowned.

At last, he looked up. Bruce felt like screaming because he could see the life flooding back in those eyes.

"Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Internet is dangerous. This fic is the consequence of me not being careful. For reasons only known to Image Search Algorithms, I found an interesting Avengers fan image thing when I was looking up _Libraries_. That led to me reading up on Captain America and Iron Man, watching the Avengers, Captain America: the winter soldier, researching MCU, and reading MCU/Marvel fanfic non-stop for a whole month (average sleep time: 3 hours). I knew my life was over by the time I found myself writing pages of notes on how the Super Soldier Serum may work in RL. I wrote this to save my brain.


	2. Iron Man, Part One

There were two things Bruce was distressed to learn after Tony bullied him and Steve into his two-seater car: 1) Tony was the type of driver who screeched his tires, stomped on the accelerator and brake hard at the last minute, and 2) Steve was now so skinny, the passenger seat accommodated the two of them without a lot of squishing. While Bruce could tune out the former, he couldn't bring himself to ignore the latter. Hence he risked some questions:

"Mind if I did a medical once-over on you, Steve?" Bruce asked, eyes firmly shut.

Steve tensed. "I don't like medical exams."

"Well, no pressure," said Bruce easily. "I won't do it if you don't want."

"Thank you," Steve muttered.

Tony eventually parked his car in what Bruce assumed was his private garage in Stark tower. He then marched Bruce and Steve over to an elevator and slapped the button for the top floor once they got in. Bruce felt his ears pop as the elevator shot up.

The elevator came to a smooth stop when it reached its destination. The doors slid open and revealed a penthouse luxuriously decorated in white, black marble and gold. A tall and beautiful woman who had her strawberry-blond hair up in a ponytail came over to greet them.

"Tony," she said, smiling warmly.

Tony bounded over to her like a lab puppy. The two of them hugged. Then, after staring deeply (and stupidly) into each other's eyes, Tony and the woman stood side-by-side with their arms wrapped around the other's waist.

"Pepper, Dr. Bruce Banner and Captain Steve Rogers," said Tony. "Bruce, Rogers, Pepper Potts, my girlfriend and CEO of Stark Industries."

Pepper beamed at them. "Hello, nice to meet you, Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers."

"Hi," said Bruce awkwardly, as he tried not to slouch.

"Ma'am," said Steve, equally awkward, but standing in soldierly attention.

"He called you ma'am," said Tony.

"I like it, it's sweet," said Pepper, which made Steve blink down at his socked feet (he left his shoes in the car; they were too big).

Pepper eventually maneuvered Bruce and Steve to the sitting area, where there was an egregiously large sectional leather couch and matching armchairs made of charcoal leather and chrome frame. Tony offered alcoholic drinks from the bar and pouted when Bruce and Steve refused. Tony then came over with two glass tumblers full of amber liquid and plopped himself next to Pepper.

"Right. So I told Pepper everything—" Tony started.

"Except you didn't make a lot of sense," Pepper interjected.

"I always make sense. What are you talking about, Pep?" Tony shot back. "Now where was I? Oh, yes, options. We're going to talk about options. _Your_ options, Steve, to be specific. If there's one thing you should know about life in the 21st century, that it's about having options—all the options, baby."

"If you say so," said Steve, bemused.

Tony smirked. "Now the first step of having options is being legal, which in your case is being legally alive. Do you have a passport or driver's license, or are you banking on no one pulling you over for driving without ID?"

Steve reached into his inner jacket pocket and produced an old and weathered looking passport. It very much looked like a historical document one would expect to see in a museum. "SHIELD gave me my old one in storage," he said.

"It's expired," Tony pointed out. "So no driver's license?"

"I have a temporary one with the state of New York," said Steve.

"I'm surprised they didn't take care of your passport first," Pepper remarked.

Steve shrugged. "I guess they thought I wouldn't need it just yet."

"How presumptuous of them," said Pepper.

Tony started drumming his fingers against an armrest.

"There hasn't been any official statement about you," he said. "This doesn't mean the powers-that-be aren't aware of you. I mean, look: SHIELD basically claimed custody over you, which means the World Security Council is aware of you, and I'm betting the guys who found you told the President or Army or whatever they thought should be told. The point is: there are powerful people who can vouch that you are you and are willing to give you the paperwork that says that. Your temporary driver's license, case in point. _But_."

"I have to make it worth their while for more," said Steve grimly.

"Exactly," said Tony, pointing dramatically. "Now the good news: you do kind of live up to your legend. See, even _I'm_ admitting it. Just look at me, admitting that you're pretty good, even if the thing that made you special came from a bottle."

"Tony!" Pepper exclaimed while Steve flinched.

"What? It's true!" Tony protested. "Captain America came to be when Steve took the best drugs science could offer."

"Tony, seriously, you're saying things you're going to later regret saying," said Pepper angrily. "And even if you don't, Steve doesn't deserve this."

Tony looked at Pepper, at Bruce, stole a very brief glance at a stony-faced Steve before looking down at his tumbler like a chastised kid.

"Okay, sorry, I may have gone overboard," Tony muttered. "Maybe. Anyway, Capital Hill, Army, SHIELD … they'll all want you, Steve. Doesn't that give you warm and fuzzy feelings?"

"Sure," said Steve stiffly. "Though I do wonder why they'd launch a missile to Manhattan where we fighting if, as you say, 'they all want me'."

Tony hunched his shoulders and shivered when Steve mentioned the nuke.

"Stark?" said Steve, now looking concerned.

Tony waved a hand jerkily. "Don't mind me. Bad reminder. How rude of you to give me one. Didn't it occur to you that it might … upset someone? You pretty much said that it does."

"You're right," said Steve, in a low voice that left no room for sarcasm—only frankness and sincerity. "The World Security Council's decision to bomb Manhattan upset me. What you did to save it, in contrast, struck me as absolutely heroic. I'm sorry and thank you."

The expression Tony wore after this little speech would've been more appropriate if Steve had tossed him out of a window without a parachute or warning. Why he was so thrown, Bruce couldn't even start to guess. Bruce, for his part, was awed at Steve's ability to take Tony's cruel barbs and an agency that thought they could make him fight their wars without bitterness.

Was this the reason why the serum turned Steve to Captain America? When Bruce was researching the serum, he'd read a reference that said the serum amplified everything that was inside, so Good became great, and Bad became worse. Bruce hadn't paid much attention to it then, seeing as it was talking about a person's character when the serum, in his mind, was entirely biological in its effects.

Well, he'd been wrong about the serum. In so many ways.

If the serum went beyond the body, could even touch a person's character, then Steve must've been like this even before. Whereas Bruce himself … he responded to hardship and difficulty with rage and retreat. So perhaps he'd been doomed from the start. Even if he _had_ recreated the serum correctly, which he didn't, the serum may have still turned him into a rage monster.

Another Red Skull.

Bruce waited to observe his response to his train of thought. He expected bitterness and envy, and yes, he detected some of these unfurling inside his gut like a small seed of poison. But mostly he felt regret and … _curiosity_. Namely, what does it look like when a good person's goodness gets amplified?

 _Look at me, I'm seeing beyond myself,_ Bruce mused, even as he noted the irony of thinking in such terms in the current context. Then he turned his attention back to the others.

Both Steve and Pepper were watching Tony, who was still floundering speechless. Then Tony drew in a deep breath and exhaled.

"Okay. You're welcome. Anyway, moving on. Let's just … move on."

oooo

The conversation drifted back to Steve's legal status, and what it was worth to SHIELD/Fury, WSC, America in general, and the US Army in particular, to officially declare Captain America alive. This lead to a discussion on why SHIELD/Fury was looking for Captain America in the first place.

"They wouldn't have been interested in me as a person," said Steve, with an unflinching acceptance of the hard truth that Bruce really had to admire. "The best they could've hoped to retrieve is my corpse. If they were after my corpse, then this means my body has something they want."

"The serum," said Bruce.

"Which will let them create an army of super-soldiers," said Tony in a perfect relay. "Military minds simply can't get rid of this idea. No offense, Cap, but you doing such a good job at winning the war back in the forties probably only made things worse."

Steve sighed. "Probably."

"Well, SHIELD's expedition found more than what they hoped for," Tony went on. "I bet their scientist minions creamed their pants when they found you alive. All your lovely DNA perfectly intact, with you yourself alive for further study. That said, I won't completely discount the idea they would've preferred you dead since then they'd been able to poke all they want. Have they, by the way?"

"Poked around at my body?" Steve asked for clarification.

Tony stared. "Yes, well?"

"I'm not sure," said Steve. "Like I told Dr. Banner, I woke up in a cold salt bath. What they did before they put me there, I don't know."

"Mmm, something tells me they didn't have the chance," said Bruce. "The guys wouldn't have expected you gain consciousness so quickly. I would've expected you to stay under until you were ready to leave the brine bath."

"I did hear a lot of yelling," Steve said dryly. "So why put me in a brine bath in the first place?"

"To melt the ice without raising your body temperature," Bruce replied. "Drastically uneven body temperatures leads to frostbite or gangrene."

"No one wants a limbless Captain America," Tony agreed.

Steve paled. Bruce only then realized the inappropriateness of their conversation topic.

"Sorry, moving on," said Bruce hastily. "Did you have a tube down your throat when you woke up?"

"Yes," said Steve. "And the bath was inside a much bigger metal can."

"Okay, so they hooked you up to oxygen and ventilator ASAP and did everything inside a decompression chamber. Good to know the SHIELD scientists knew what they were doing," said Bruce thoughtfully. He then noticed Steve's puzzled expression. "The ventilator would've ensured you breathed. The decompression chamber would've made sure any inert gasses in your blood didn't suddenly expand and burst your veins as you thawed out."

Steve managed to turn even paler. "Oh."

"So what happened after you woke up?" Tony asked.

"I took out the tube and climbed out of the bath," said Steve, and Bruce noticed he seemed to be folding into himself. "Someone gave me a blanket. I waited – for hours. Fury talked to me through a screen. I threw up a lot." A pause. "I couldn't stomach solid food. Still can't."

Bruce and Tony shared a look. Steve hadn't partaken any food when the team had Shawarma. At the time, Bruce thought it was because Steve was too tired to eat. Now, it was clear Steve didn't eat because he _couldn't_.

"Freezer burn to the stomach, huh?" said Tony, and Steve nodded glumly.

"What have you been eating?" Bruce asked.

"Liquid stuff that tastes worse than things coming for a second pass," said Steve, grimacing. "And something called Muscle Milk."

"Yeeech," said Tony, pulling a face. "Okay, that's it. No more talking about what SHIELD may or may not have done to Steve while thawing. Or what happens when a person comes out of cryogenic freezing. Let's return to Steve's legal status and options."

"I don't think you can completely avoid SHIELD," said Pepper, picking up the thread. "Fury was fully prepared to handle your defrosting, and he probably made preparations as soon as he learned that you're alive. Meaning, he had a lot of plans for you, and wasn't afraid to fight other interested parties to carry them out."

"He certainly had plans for my body," said Steve sardonically. "I'm more inclined think my survival was an unpleasant surprise he had to respond quickly to."

"Don't say that," said Pepper. "You're a hero. I know Phil was delighted beyond belief when they found you. For my part, I'm very happy that you're alive, Steve."

Steve gave Pepper a sad little smile. "Thank you."

"Right. Back on topic, peeps," said Tony. "Now Pepper, because she's absolutely perfect and brilliant, is correct. You can't avoid SHIELD. The best you can do is leverage what you've got. Brucie, you're a genius, and far more valuable as yourself than the Other Guy, so we'll play on that. Steve, you have the whole super-soldier thing going on, and that alone has the military-intelligence community salivating. Plus, you can transform in ways no normal human being can. It'll make you very valuable for undercover work. Right up SHIELD's alley."

"But my transformations are not up to me," said Steve. "It really depends on how close to battle I am. Right now I'm in an intermediate state. I've still got three more inches to shrink." He wet his lips. "I wasn't able to get this far until now."

Bruce and Tony shared another look. Clearly, Steve had been in a state of acute terror/rage since waking up and only recently been able to relax enough to shrink down half-way. It also was no surprise that he still had some residual but still significant amount of fear/anger running in his system, therefore couldn't reverse the transformation completely.

Really, knowing what they knew now, it was even more remarkable how well Steve handled Loki and SHIELD. It made Bruce want to say something encouraging, but he couldn't think of a tactful way of saying: _'Hey, you did a really good job for someone who woke up seventy years in the future, and then was pushed to fight another war immediately afterward by a bunch of dicks'_. As is, it was too easy to construe the words as mocking. Though Steve had been taking Tony's … Tony-ness very well, Bruce didn't want to add to it. Or was gruff words the best way to show solidarity? At this point Bruce noticed his thoughts were going in a tailspin, so he decided to refrain least he botched things up with words.

"Will, uh, it cause problems?" Bruce asked.

"I think I'm all right," said Steve. "When I was out in the field, I would stay like this for months until there was enemy engagement."

"And you came out with your sanity intact," said Tony. "Of course you could be hiding it really well…"

Steve chuckled darkly.

"If I do go insane, Stark, it'll be as obvious as Hulk. Sorry, Dr. Banner."

"S'alright," said Bruce. "Let's go back to leverage. You've got a lot of skills SHIELD wants. But I don't recommend you going full-time with them. If you do, it'll be too easy for them to just take over your whole life."

"Don't give them more than strictly necessary," Tony agreed. "And full-time goes completely against having options."

"Do I even have options?" Steve asked.

"Of course you do," said Bruce, with more conviction than he felt. "See, SHIELD would want you to get up to speed. That doesn't mean they can dictate how you get there. Maybe you can agree to work as a contractor on a part-time basis, so you can go to school? School's a great way to catch up, you know, and you look young enough to pass as a student. How old are you, by the way?"

"Is that a trick question?" asked Steve, lips quirked.

"Okay, I deserved that," said Bruce, smiling back. "Seriously, though: how old were you back in 1945?"

"Twenty-three," said Steve.

"Ohmygosh, you're a baby," Tony cooed. "Pep, our leader is a _baby_."

"Tony, behave," said Pepper. "I'm with Dr. Banner. College is a good idea. Is there anything you're interested in studying, Steve?"

Steve turned blank. Bruce thought he looked exactly like a baffled teen who was trying to fill out his college applications.

"I … don't know," said Steve slowly. "College was never an option for me before."

"Didn't you study art?" asked Bruce.

"I took a few art classes to get an advertising job. That's not the same thing."

Tony looked appalled. "You worked in advertising. _Advertising_."

"It paid the rent," said Steve defensively.

"Don't mind him, Steve," said Pepper firmly. "Now back to college majors. You don't actually need to declare one for admissions. You can feel around to find out what suits you best as a freshman, and change it if it doesn't work out. You just need to come up with a decent proposal for SHIELD."

"Maybe you can tell them you're interested in studying computers because of your dinner with Alan Turing," said Bruce. "They'd totally eat it up if you mention computers."

Pepper perked up. "You had dinner with Alan Turing? The man who broke the Enigma?"

"The one and only," said Steve. "And it was dinner _s_."

"Dinners. Plural. Ooooh, this just got even more interesting," said Tony, wriggling in his seat. "Give us a rundown, Steve. JARVIS, transcribe and record."

"As you wish, Sir," said an electronic voice with a British accent.

"That's JARVIS, my Artificial Intelligence, by the way," said Tony. "Exchange pleasantries later. Steve, go."

Steve looked at Tony for a second. Then a smile of pure affection bloomed on his face. It took both Bruce and Tony completely aback.

"Uh, what just happened to your face?" said Tony, alarmed.

"Nothing. You just reminded me of someone," Steve said. Then he drew in a breath. "Dinner one was at this bistro down Mass Avenue. Served French food, I think. Anyway, Alan plowed right into it…"

oooo

Two days after the Chitauri attack, Bruce found himself in Stark Tower's top R&D floor, looking up GED testing centers. He also encountered Nick Fury and Natasha Romanoff apropos nothing.

"Oh, hi, Agent Romanoff … Director Fury…" he murmured.

"Hey, Doc," said Romanoff, grinning easily.

Fury pulled up a chair and sat. "You look busy."

"Ah, well, you know, research waits for no man," said Bruce, as he adjusted his glasses. "Tony's flying to Malibu, by the way."

"Good thing I'm not looking for him, then," said Fury, looking at the tablet in Bruce's hands pointedly. "Thought you were way beyond taking GEDs, Doc."

"It's not for me," said Bruce. "Got involved in an interesting project."

Fury leaned back. "Tell me, I'm all ears."

Bruce studied Fury and Romanoff. He got exactly nothing from their demeanor or expression. Spy or Emotionally Intelligent he was clearly not.

"So, uh, Steve mentioned to me in passing he'd met Alan Turing," said Bruce. "You know, the father of modern computing?"

"Sure," said Fury. "And I suppose you wanted to know what they talked about."

"Mmmhmm," said Bruce. "It turns out Steve and Turing got along like a house on fire; what was supposed to be one dinner turned into several dinners when Steve figured out a real life Turing Machine would have to use binary instructions because a machine can only understand yes and no. From there, he and Turing designed a layered hierarchy structure of commands with increasing layers of abstraction for each computing unit, pretty much nailing future computer development. Then they started talking about scalability. Turing argued for a single data center with dedicated segments, kind of like virtual machines, and Steve argued for a series of computing units that communicated with each other, which is basically parallel computing and networking. But what really blew my mind was this. JARVIS?"

JARVIS dutifully played the recording Bruce had him ready for exactly this sort of occasion:

" _I thought we shouldn't put an emphasis on the standardization of instructions, but standardization of communication protocols. 'Cause, no matter how generalized you make a computing unit, people will want to tinker and customize. If nothing else, there will be as many different instruction languages as there are human languages. Anyway, one thing I knew for sure was, no matter how people choose to do their work, almost everyone wants a shared platform where they can show their work. So my bet was, there will be a universal language, routing and addressing system that would let each computing unit identify their location, how to get from point A to B, and send information across a communication line that all computing units can interpret, regardless of their own individual instruction interpreters."_

There was a long, long silence in the lab.

"…In case you haven't noticed, Steve basically prophesied the birth of Internet in 1942," said Bruce, at length. "No wonder Dr. Erskine favored him, huh?"

Agent Romanoff remained inscrutable. Fury seemed to deflate as he exhaled noisily through his nose. Then he planted his elbows on the lab table, threaded his fingers, and nailed Bruce with a penetrating stare.

"What are you suggesting, Doctor?" he said, voice low and gravely.

Bruce drew in a steadying breath.

"I think we should stop making assumptions on what Steve can or cannot do," he said. "I'd hate for him to waste his brains. I recommend he get a degree in computer science with a focus on distributed and heterogeneous networks. He's already at the four hundred levels on the theory side of things. He just needs to catch up on the practical stuff. I'm putting the word out in Harvard, and Tony said he'll hit up his buddies in MIT and CalTech."

"Seems like you already got things in motion, Doc," remarked Romanoff.

"It doesn't hurt," said Bruce. "Look, I don't know what he should do. He might get into research, or he may not. I just think he should have more than just 'soldier' as an option."

There was another bout of silence. Fury re-threaded his fingers and somehow made the gesture look menacing.

"The world isn't fair, and no one gets all the options they should have," Fury began.

"I know," said Bruce.

"And I know you know," said Fury. "You're not dumb, Dr. Banner, so I won't waste my time explaining to you what Captain Rogers is up against."

"Agencies that may or may not include SHIELD who wants an army of super-soldiers," said Bruce bluntly. "Barring that, the one and only successful super-soldier under their control."

"Like I said, you're not dumb," said Fury. "Now I'm gonna tell you how things are: I know you're invested in Captain Rogers. I know you're compromised. I also know you're the best expert in super-soldier serum we've got."

"I'm not recreating the serum," said Bruce.

"And I don't want you to," said Fury. "Now I will admit, I did have plans to give a tamer version of the serum on promising people who could step up and defend our planet. That's why SHIELD went looking for Captain Rogers. But while we were prepping for it, we found something that made me shelve this plan completely."

Fury handed over a folder to Bruce. Bruce took it reluctantly and opened it. Enclosed was a printout of what looked like a transcript.

"Dr. Erskine left no notes on the serum," Fury said. "That doesn't mean he didn't talk about it. Someone from the SSR days had the presence of mind to jot down everything he said."

Bruce stole a brief glance at Fury before he started reading:

* * *

 

> _MC: According to Zola, your serum is a failure, Doctor. Johann Schmidt turn into Red Skull after he injected himself with it._
> 
> _AE: My serum did not fail. It did exactly what I designed it to do. It enhances what is already within. It is Herr Schmidt who has failed at being human._
> 
> _MC: I grant Schmidt was not an ideal candidate. However, Michael Rogers was a good man, and so was his brother Grant, and yet here we are._
> 
> _AE: I'm terribly sorry about what happened to Michael and Grant. I also admit there are difficulties in reconciling what I designed the serum to do and what happened to the Rogers brothers. But I do have some theories._
> 
> _MC: which are?_
> 
> _AE: We are prone to mistake outside appearances for inner goodness, and we frequently have the wrong idea in whom true goodness may reside. Are you not as brave and true as any man, Agent Carter? Yet no one even thinks to name you as a candidate. We are all fixated in finding the perfect grown man candidate._
> 
> _MC: … so what you're saying …_
> 
> _AE: It could be that my serum will only work as intended for the least us. You know: the women, children, and infirm._
> 
>  

* * *

Hands trembling, Bruce put the folder down.

"May only work for the ill, children or girls, huh?" he mumbled.

"Sounds like it," said Fury. "Whatever you think of us, we have a policy against recruiting children."

"How do you explain Agent Romanoff, then?" Bruce asked.

"I wasn't underage when SHIELD took me in," said Romanoff. "FYI: I'm here for little girls who might get turn into me."

Bruce swallowed, hard.

"Captain Rogers has refused all attempts at a medical examination for the last three weeks," said Fury. "If I'm interpreting his character correctly, this is him trying to take his biological information to the grave, least it is abused. While I respect his reasons, I can't have him continue to refuse the medical attention he needs. It's also possible we need your expertise to treat his unique physiology."

Fury looked at Bruce like a man who held the ace of trumps.

"Do I have your cooperation, doc?"

Bruce took in a deep calming breath _. Damn you, Fury, damn you to Hell…_

"I'll see what I can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if Alan Turing would've preferred a virtual machine solution over a distributed computing system. I merely thought Steve would've preferred a distributed computing system for resiliency and greater fail-over abilities, and so made Turing take a different side.


	3. Iron Man, Part Two

Fury gave Bruce a list of places authorized to handle Steve's physical, with the understanding SHIELD would house his medical data electronically. Bruce ignored the list and told Fury he wanted to use Stark Tower's medical bay for the physical. Surprisingly, Fury okayed this.

Bruce rung up Tony after Fury and Romanoff left the lab to ask if his Bullshit about Stark Tower medical was true, and if not, if he could make it true.

"I've been letting clinics in the area use the first two floors of Stark Tower to treat the injured," Tony replied. "You could probably borrow their equipment."

"Good idea. Thanks," Bruce said.

"So what are you gonna do with the oh-so-precious super-soldier med data you've collected?" asked Tony.

"Record on paper, and get around to entering it into a computer later," said Bruce mildly.

"A lot later?"

"No ETA. I'm bad at entering stuff into computers, see."

"Awww, Brucie. I knew you had it in you," said Tony, his grin evident in his tone.

Bruce ended the call and headed to the guest quarters he and Steve had been sharing for the last two days. And almost ran into Natasha Romanoff in the hall.

"Hi, again," she said, as she neatly stepped out of Bruce's way.

"Uh, ummm," Bruce stuttered.

Romanoff smirked. "I just wanted to say hello to Captain Rogers," she said.

Bruce started to quietly panic. He wasn't sure if it was alright for Agent Romanoff to know about Steve's intermediate state. She was part of SHIELD, and one of their best operatives. But she had also fought alongside him as an Avenger, even when she didn't have to.

Then Bruce was saved. Steve, in full Captain America state, joined them, holding up a bloody fist.

Then Bruce went back into shock. Because, you know, bloody fist.

" _What_ ," he choked, pointing.

"Good Morning, Agent Romanoff, Bruce," said Steve sheepishly. "I punched a mirror."

Romanoff didn't look perturbed. "Good Morning. Call me Natasha. And I heard you don't like mirrors, Cap."

"Call me Steve. I haven't since Rebirth," Steve sighed. "Help, please?"

Bruce eventually came to and led Steve to the nearest impromptu clinic. All the supplies Bruce needed were laid out for him when they entered the room. While Bruce pondered this deeply suspicious setup, Steve seated himself on a chair and waited.

At last, Bruce gave up and started working.

"You're adorable," said Natasha, as Bruce picked out the shards in Steve's knuckles.

Bruce absently noted he was cradling Steve's injured hand. "He is, isn't he?"

"Is this a 21st century thing?" Steve muttered, turning pink.

"Yes. And we're going easy on you," said Natasha, beaming prettily.

Before long, Steve's right knuckle was glass-free and carefully bandaged. The later was almost unnecessary, as the wound looked about a week old at that point. Bruce couldn't help but marvel at this. What kind of immune system could generate such accelerated healing without triggering some kind of autoimmune disease? How did it differ from AIDS and certain forms of blood cancer? Seriously, how did Dr. Erskine pull this off without knowing the existence of DNA? (Or maybe he did? But how? _how_?!)

Bruce must have let his thoughts wander down this path too far deep into his mind, because next thing he knew, someone was tapping his shoulder. Bruce shook himself and saw Natasha giving him a Look. Bruce understood the look even though he'd never seen it before.

"Sorry. I have terminal wandering mind disease," said Bruce, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "So, uh, Steve, Fury told me you're long overdue for a medical."

"He would," Steve groaned. "Are you my doctor?"

"Uh-huh. You okay with that? I know you don't like medical. And I'm not even licensed."

Steve nodded without hesitation. "If it's you, I'm fine."

Bruce felt profoundly flattered and honored by this. He also felt completely under-qualified as a result.

"Tell me at any point if it's uncomfortable. I'll stop right away," said Bruce, as he removed his gloves.

Bruce first helped Steve filled out a standard medical form. Bruce was more than a little discombobulated at the sheer number of conditions and past illnesses Steve listed as had having pre-serum: scoliosis, color-blindness, stomach ulcers, deaf in right ear, arrhythmia, damaged aortic valve, pernicious anaemia, asthma, and chronic fatigue; family history of diabetes and heart problems; had scarlet fever, Spanish flu, multiple bouts of pneumonia and finally tuberculosis.

"How did you stay alive?" Bruce asked, incredulously.

"Providence?" said Steve, shrugging helplessly. "I got the serum just in time. TB was about to finish me off."

After the forms, Bruce had Steve weighed, measured and checked for obvious abnormalities (none). While at it, Bruce made a mental note to do another physical when Steve was in his intermediate state for comparison purposes. Steve appeared calm and his heartbeat was steady throughout the exam, despite the audience of Natasha and the fact he was an impeccably muscular six-foot-two stated loudly otherwise. Bruce couldn't help but marvel at this dichotomy, or whatever character quality Steve possessed that made this possible.

Once Bruce finished drawing the required blood samples and labeled the vials, Natasha spoke up.

"SHIELD would like you to do a full body x-ray and MRI."

Steve looked both wary and curious. "What's an MRI?"

"Magnetic Resonance Imaging," Bruce said. "Think of it as an x-ray scan for muscles, without x-ray's bad side-effects."

Steve looked fascinated. "X-ray has side-effects? What kind?"

"The usual stuff that comes with ionizing radiation," said Bruce, knowing full well he was explaining it badly. "Cancer, tissue damage, and gene mutations that may prevent you from having little Rogerses in the future…"

Steve stiffened when Bruce mentioned the last item. Natasha noticed and raised an eyebrow. Steve considered Natasha, then Bruce, and turned pensive. Bruce, who assumed Steve was reacting like any virile man who had heard a potential and highly novel threat against his fathering abilities, just waited for Steve to work it out.

"What's gene mutation?" Steve asked, at last.

"Do you know what genes are?" Bruce asked.

"No."

"Okay, let's start there," said Bruce, putting down his clipboard and then running a hand through his hair. "Genes, genes … oh boy, where do I start…"

"If I may intrude, Dr. Banner," said JARVIS' digital voice. "I took the liberty of compiling some educational videos that may aide Captain Rogers' education on this matter."

" _Thank you_ ," said Bruce fervently. "JARVIS, play."

Steve mouthed 'videos?' as JARVIS dimmed the lights. Then he watched with rapt attention at the various YouTube videos JARVIS projected on a white wall.

At the end, Steve looked a bit overwhelmed.

"So if DNA is words of an alphabet," he said slowly, "their arrangements are words and sentences, and epigenetics is the plot … the story on the fabric of life."

"Yep," said Bruce.

"That was almost poetic," said Natasha, eyes mischievous. "Didn't know you're a poet, Steve."

Steve did a little shrug. "Not really. So gene mutations are … bad edits? Huge splatters of ink?"

"Bad ones would be like that, yeah," said Bruce. "Just so you know: some mutations are beneficial. Like our ability to drink milk past infancy."

Steve nodded thoughtfully.

"I think I get it know. Thank you, JARVIS. Bruce."

"My pleasure, Captain," said JARVIS.

"Yeah, no problem," said Bruce. Then to Natasha, he said, "I'm gonna grab an MRI tech and a radiologist. It'll take a while. Are you staying?"

Natasha shook her head. "Call me when you're done. JARVIS knows my number. Take care."

She left swiftly. Bruce and Steve shared a look.

"Guess she wanted to make sure I got medical," Steve remarked.

"Guess that means she cares," said Bruce. "Now about the mirror thing…"

"Quickest way to turn me into Captain America," said Steve. His smile looked painful. "My reflection disturbs me."

Bruce shut his mouth. He never had an occasion to look into a mirror and find the Other Guy staring back. He knew how the Other Guy looked like based on photos. But he supposed if he was forced to see the Other Guy every damn time he saw a damn mirror, he would hate them, too.

Damn it. Temper.

"So," said Bruce, as he controlled his breathing. "Wanna go see an MRI machine?"

oooo

JARVIS guided Bruce and Steve to Tony's personal MRI machine (why he had one, Bruce wasn't sure he wanted to guess). Steve took one look at it and declared it looked like a whiter and sleeker version of the vita-ray chamber he'd been encased in for the final stage of Project Rebirth.

"Something tells me that's not a good thing," said Bruce.

"Not exactly a fond memory," Steve muttered.

So Bruce took the time to explain how MRIs worked. He liberally used white boards, markers, Google and YouTube videos to supplement his pathetic powers of explanation. Steve looked enthralled - at both MRIs and Google.

"So this is basically a big magnet," said Steve, patting the outer casing.

"Uh-huh," Bruce said.

"What would happen if your body has metal inside of it?" Steve asked.

Bruce was delighted to witness Steve's perceptiveness without a bleak truth at the end of it.

"Electronic devices get shorted out, and iron shrapnel will head towards it. That's why people who have … uh, pacemakers or metal knee replacements can't get into these things."

Steve played around with Google search while Bruce worked with Tony's MRI technician, a.k.a JARVIS, medical subroutine. Steve appeared to have mastered the basics of Internet Search by the time the machine was ready; Steve was expertly executing the right-click and open new tab function for a search result on ...Sherlock Holmes, of all things.

"Congratulations, Steve. You have just mastered Google-fu 101," said Bruce.

Steve grinned. "I really like the Internet. It's so helpful."

"Amen. God bless the Internet," said Bruce reverently. "Now why Sherlock Holmes?"

"He's my favorite character," said Steve wistfully. "Bucky and I … we read the stories over and over. It's good to know people still read them."

Bruce went still at the mention of Sgt. James Barnes, ' _Captain Steve Rogers' closest and dearest friend, inseparable from schoolyard to battlefield_.' It felt like hot snakes had coiled low in his gut. Bruce mulled over the sensation and concluded it was second-degree anger: something not directly aim at him, but angering nevertheless.

And it wasn't new. When he was on the run, Bruce read a Captain America comic meta-text on a whim, and this particular fact had struck him hard. It seemed to so unfair that a good man who didn't turn bitter when his sickly friend turned into a super-soldier, but risked his life helping him, would die so abruptly. Sgt. Barnes deserved better, damn it. He deserved to leave the war with his best friend by his side as a decorated hero. So what if it was cheesy? The world was cruel enough as it is. And speaking of Steve…

Bruce had to wonder how fresh Sgt. Barnes' death was in his head. It might have been a mere month or several months. Either way, not too long ago from Steve's perspective. Did SHIELD set him up with a grief counselor? Did they give any thought of PTSD? Or did they merely wanted him functional for battles?

Oh god, and here was Bruce, thinking he could do a better job. What was he doing?

"Uhhh," Bruce choked.

"There's so much to learn," Steve went on, apparently oblivious to Bruce's turmoil, as he planted his palms next and leaned back, and his gaze far away. "I don't think even three lifetimes will be enough to learn everything."

"Yeah, well, we do call this century the information age," Bruce mumbled because he was a sorry excuse of a man who had social skills of a concussed and diseased cat, trying to be a dog.

"Sounds more plausible than the Age of Options," said Steve, a little quirk on his mouth. "So is the MRI ready for me? Or is it the other way around?"

"All parties are ready, Captain," said JARVIS smoothly, and Bruce concluded then and there a Tony Stark programmed A.I. had more emotional intelligence than himself. "Please lie down on your back on the sliding table. If you have any coins or credit cards on your person, please leave them on top of the cabinet. Once you are comfortable, the table will slide into the magnet chamber. Please let me know if you feel claustrophobic. Also, do not be alarmed if you hear any loud snapping and clicking noises."

Steve did as asked. Soon all Bruce could see was Steve's bare feet sticking out from the chamber. JARVIS showed the live recording of Steve's face inside the MRI. The whole situation reminded Bruce of a scene in the TV series _House, MD_ , where Wilson pretended to be god over the intercom, while House was in an MRI.

"After this, let's watch _House, MD_ ," said Bruce. "It's a TV show. You'll like it. There's a lot of hand-wavey medical science, and Sherlock Holmes references."

Steve's eyes sparkled.

"Man after my own heart. Oh, and if you like, I'll write the notes Dr. Erskine showed me."

Bruce was undone.

oooo

"Hey, Brucie Bear, miss me?"

Bruce tore his gaze away from Steve's MRI images he'd been studying so he could pay attention to the holographic projection of Tony Stark.

"Hi, Tony, good to know you still remember I exist," he said.

"Darling, how can you think like that? I called right after I settled in Malibu," said Tony, pouting. "Okay, so maybe I was incommunicado for a few days. Weeks. Almost a month. Possibly. Anyway, how are you and mini-Rogers doing?"

"Steve's doing well," said Bruce. "He's liking the MIT computer science curriculum. He has a black-belt in Google-fu now, and that's speeding up the learning process. He's not doing so hot on freezer burn, but he can stomach smoothies of chunkier consistencies. Chunky is totally a technical term, by the way."

"Of course, it is," said Tony indulgently.

"SHIELD strong-armed me into doing Steve's medical," Bruce went on. "It was very comprehensive. NFL players probably go through something similar."

"Medical with an eye on extreme fitness, eh?" said Tony.

"Yep," said Bruce. "On a related note: SHIELD is strongly encouraging me to get my medical license. They also want me to read up on sports medicine. No offense to those in the field, they do good work I'm sure, but my brain and free will feels violated."

"I'll have JARVIS send you a metric ton of junk food so you can scrub the filth from your brain," said Tony, grinning.

"Oh, thank you," said Bruce, grinning back. "I'm going to need it. Steve transcribed Erskine's private notes for me, and it's Candyland redux."

Tony, as expected, gaped.

"Brucie, don't lie to me. How can Rogers memorize all the instructions when he doesn't have a science background, and even if he did, science back in his day hadn't yet made all the necessary discoveries?"

"I'm more bewildered at Erskine for developing the serum seemingly without the necessary science knowledge than I am of him finding a way to let Steve know without, you know, him knowing," said Bruce.

"You're overdoing the 'knows'. So how did it happen? Gimme."

Bruce took in a breath. "You know the problem with the Super Soldier Serum was never genetics, right?"

"It's an epigenetics problem, sure," said Tony, nodding. "Most bodies know to create the components of an arm. It's in the assembly where we have a thousand complaints. Therefore the key is in the higher level instructions."

"Yep. Now suppose the serum is a set of epigenetic-level instructions," Bruce said. "Since it's more abstract, you could write something that a non-expert can understand and memorize, but an expert can translate. Like, say, a poem," Bruce eagerly took out the notes Steve wrote for him in beautiful cursive. "That's exactly what Erskine gave to Steve. Just listen to the first stanza:

> 'My letter to thee, Oh humanity,
> 
> for that day when you can
> 
> read the words and letters and stories of life'."

There was a stunned silence.

"F#* H$^," said Tony, awed. "Obviously the 'words' are DNA/RNA, letters are proteins and stories are … ohmygod, how long is the poem?"

"With Steve's tiny cursive, ten standard A-size printer pages," said Bruce. "Long, but nothing an ambitious student can't handle. Now check this out: Erskine wrote the poem in Yiddish, English, and German, and let Steve see it once. Keyword 'see' and 'once'. He read it out loud for Steve to appreciate. Also: Steve is fluent in English, duh, proficient in 1940s spoken German and knows a smattering of Yiddish because of WWII. He didn't acquire the latter two languages until a year after the read-through post-serum. But he was still able to give me the original verse and translation. JARVIS assures me the translation is accurate."

Tony picked up the significance immediately.

"This means he retroactively recalled words heard prior to actually learning the language itself, and was able to accurately infuse meaning to that phonetic memory without time-related distortion…"

"…And this kind of cognitive ability no normal person could possibly replicate, therefore super-soldier serum may have acted as a catalyst if not the cause." Bruce sat back and sighed. "The serum really is the pinnacle of scientific achievement. I could study this for the rest of my life and not even scratch the surface."

"And all we've been doing with the recipients is using them as speedy beefcakes. It's a travesty," Tony gripped.

"Preach," Bruce sighed.

"So what are you gonna do?" Tony asked.

"I'm working on translating the notes to a proper genome. I'm also reading anything new on the super-soldier serum I can get my hands on. The most promising papers I've read so far are by Maya Hansen. Her research on multi-host viral carriers was particularly inspired. Have you heard of her?"

"Name rings a bell," said Tony, scrunching his face. "Met her back in 1999 at a conference in Switzerland. I think she's a … botanist?"

"Doubt it, since she has a doctorate in gene therapy," said Bruce, smirking.

"Oh. Well. I definitely recall sleeping with her after dinner," Tony said.

Bruce groaned and covered his face. "Okay. That's more than I ever wanted to know about you and Dr. Hansen."

Tony smirked briefly. Then his expression turned into a genuine smile.

"Looks like you're enjoying yourself there," he remarked.

Bruce looked down, embarrassed. "I really can't complain. Thank you for everything."

"It's nothing. I hate seeing brilliant minds criminally underused. Go crazy, Bruce, and tell me all about it."

"I'll do my best. Oh! Speaking of which, Steve and I might stay in DC for three months."

Tony eyebrows ascended to his hairline.

"DC? Why the hell do you need to go to DC?"

"There are some guys in NIH, Hopkins and Georgetown University I want to talk to, and Steve needs to meet up with his SHIELD-issued trainer."

"Oh, that's okay, then," said Tony, looking a bit miffed. "I might stop by. SHIELD contracted me to do Helicarrier repairs. Well, not me, exactly, but Stark Industries. Which is essentially me. They also ordered twelve more hover elements. Six hundred million dollars apiece, no joke. So who is the trainer?"

"SHIELD's Strike team leader. This guy named Brock. Brock Rumlow."

"Never heard of him. Any good?"

"Fury said he's good."

"Which I suppose is good enough," Tony sniffed. "Just in case, confirm with Agent Romanoff or Agent Legolas."

"Will do," said Bruce.

At that moment, a familiar female voice exclaimed: ' _Tony_!'

"Shit, that's Pepper," said Tony, looking back. "Talk to you later. _Cao_!"

Tony blew a very loud kiss and then his projection winked out.

Bruce exhaled in the silence that followed. The lab was almost too quiet after Tony Stark and his particular brand of loud. For several minutes, Bruce just slouched in his chair and blinked at nothing in particular. Then he gathered himself and resumed his studying of Steve's MRI images.

He perhaps stared at it for another ten seconds when Steve stood next to him.

"You've been staring at those pictures all morning," Steve remarked.

"I keep finding new things to look at," said Bruce.

Steve smiled a little. "What do you see?"

"Secrets of the human body in general, and yours in particular," Bruce replied without thinking. Then he blushed. "Sorry, that sounds creepy, doesn't it?"

"If I thought you had bad motives, then perhaps," said Steve softly.

Bruce looked down at his feet. There were so many things he wanted to say but wasn't sure he should. Steve may unflinchingly accept suffering that would leave lesser mortals a quivering wreck, but Bruce didn't think a human being could stand too much of it. But where did the line between kindness and honesty lie? Captain America would have told Bruce that, surely, but what was Bruce to do when he was trying to find that line for Steve?

"Tell me," Steve said. "Tell me what you can see what others would, too."

Bruce wanted to laugh. Of course, Captain America would show him the way, even now.

"The serum changed you a lot," Bruce began. "But a lot of things … stayed the same. And not all of these are what I expected. And there are things I wouldn't have noticed without an in-depth view."

Steve nodded.

"It's probably gonna take another decade or two before our human genome knowledge and protein recombination skills are up to par to recreate the serum," Bruce went on. "But knowing what we know now, plus what you let me know, a lot of people will feel like it's just out of reach."

Steve nodded again.

"And some evil people may try to experiment because of that," Bruce whispered. "Recipient information is just as important as drug information, you know. There are significant differences between you and the other known serum recipients, including the knock-out versions. If someone with solid anatomy knowledge sees these images, they will find it out. That means …"

"We can't let them know," Steve said. "Or the little guys will suffer."

"The children, particularly girls, or the deathly ill or profoundly injured. Or all of the above," Bruce finished.

Silence reigned.

"I won't let that happen," said Steve fiercely. "Not on my watch."

Bruce nodded. "And I'm gonna help you."

Steve smiled lopsidedly. "Thank you."

The two of them stood in companionable silence.

"I'm going to tell SHIELD that I shrink," Steve said.

Bruce stared. "Why?"

"Any team I join needs to know my assets and liabilities. If I change in the middle of a mission without warning, it may compromise my teammates. I can't have that."

"What if they use the knowledge against you?"

Steve smiled grimly. "I just have to be too strong and fast for them to engage."

"Would they let you get that powerful?" Bruce mused. "You're useful to them as you are, and they might want to keep you there for control purposes."

"Oh, they might," Steve agreed. "But I'm betting the sciencey guys will let me. If there's one thing I know about scientists and engineers, they wanna know how far things can be pushed."

Bruce smiled wryly at the truth of this.

"Besides, a film guy made a Captain America movie showing my shrinking abilities back in the forties. I'm sure SHIELD knows all about it."

Bruce jaw dropped. Then he closed his mouth and palmed his face.

"Oh, god, what were they _thinking_?"

"Clearly not about stealth," said Steve dryly. "It was a terrible movie, by the way. Don't watch it."

Bruce nodded with his face schooled to a serious expression. In his head, however, he was screaming: _A Terrible Captain America Movie with Steve in it? Must. Watch._

But how to find the movie? It was made in the forties, so it must be in newsreel format. Bruce was pretty sure the movie wasn't digitized, at least not yet, so there was little chance he'd find it on the Internet. Which meant …

…It was time to schedule a phone call with Pepper Potts.

oooo

Sometime after Steve confessed to being a profound Sherlock Holmes geek, Bruce had called Pepper Potts to ask her about Tony's radio silence.

"He's in his workshop, probably," Pepper sighed.

"Is he alright?"

"I don't know. He's been off since the alien invasion, but then again, he just fought in an _alien invasion._ He just might be reacting to that."

Not for the first time, Bruce felt grateful for not remembering anything the Other Guy did.

"Anything I can do?" Bruce asked.

"If you can talk to him and lure him out of his hole, please do," said Pepper. "Now enough about Tony. How are you? How is Steve doing with College Applications?"

"I'm good. Steve is struggling."

" _Why_? His personal accomplishments are without peer! The _President of United States_ is probably willing to write a letter of recommendation! What's the trouble?"

Bruce smiled wryly. "Did you know online college application DOB dropdown lists don't go as far as 1922?"

Pepper groaned. "Of course, it's the stupid stuff."

"To be fair, I don't think there's a lot of ninety-year-olds who are trying to get into college," said Bruce. "But this we can resolve. Getting a copy of Steve's high school diploma, from a school that no longer exists, by the way, is trickier, and I have no idea how we're going to solve that."

"I know who we can ask," said Pepper.

"We'd be lost without you, Pepper," said Bruce fervently. "Now back to problems. You would think having 'decorated war hero', 'Winner of Medal of Honor', 'Instrumental in ending WWII', and 'just recently led a team that repelled an alien invasion' on your resume would make writing a college application essay easy-peasy. Until you realize you have to, you know, _actually write the damn essay and make it sound believable_."

"That's why we need to call President Ellis to vouch for Steve," said Pepper sensibly.

"And here I was thinking we're adding Ellis to the list for name-dropping," said Bruce. "Speaking of which, Steve doesn't think his war efforts are relevant, since, I quote, none of them demonstrates my ability to succeed in college _._ "

Pepper chuckled. "He's too honest."

"Mmmhmm. I need to talk to Steve on how to hack and bullshit one's way through college in order to enjoy life and get awesome grades. Don't worry, I'll be very sneaky."

Since then, Bruce and Pepper called each other regularly to update their goings on. Bruce dangled Science in front of Tony to lure him out of his cocoon, Pepper used her Junior PAs to resolve Steve's unique college application difficulties, and they told each other what they did. These conversations were generally pleasant and non-confrontational.

Then Bruce asked Pepper what was Tony's deal for/against Captain America.

"Why do you ask?" said Pepper. She didn't look guarded or ruffled, but then again, she was always so poised.

"It seems like he can't help but take a piss at Steve like every other sentence, even when he's going out on a limb to help," said Bruce. "Steve's good about it, but it's gotta grate. And some of the stuff he says is really cruel."

"I know," Pepper sighed. "Look, I can't excuse him, but he has his reasons."

"I figured," said Bruce calmly. "Just would like to know what they are, so I can run interference."

"You're a good man, Bruce."

"I try to be."

"That's all that matters, sometimes," said Pepper. Then she sighed. "It's like this: Tony's father—Howard Stark—spent four decades looking for Captain America. _Four Decades._ "

Bruce felt his eyes go wide.

"He privately funded search expeditions to the Arctic," Pepper went on. "Year after year a team would go and look for the body, but return empty-handed." A pause. "Then Howard died. Obadiah Stane took over as interim CEO, and the first thing he did—with Tony's approval— was cut the Arctic search funding. So the expeditions stopped. Years passed. Then SHIELD finds Steve, and the next thing we know, Tony joins the same team as Captain America to fight _aliens_."

Bruce didn't know what to say.

"It's all so complicated and mysterious," said Pepper. "I don't know why Howard Stark kept looking. I don't think anyone does. None who's alive, at any rate. All I know is, Tony grew up thinking his dad was more interested in a dead man than he was interested in own son, and nothing he did or accomplished was going to change that. Then he actually meets the man, and sort-of-kind-of sees why Howard did what he did."

Bruce, impossibly, felt even more speechless after this.

"It's really not fair," said Pepper sadly. "To Tony or Steve. I was afraid to meet Steve, you know, though I couldn't say why. I guess I was afraid to like him—or hate him. Anything but have an opinion." She sighed. "Then I actually met him, and now if there's anything I can do to make him happy, I'll do it. And if there's anything I can do to seriously hurt the people who made him fight again, I'll do it, too."

That broke Bruce out of his stupor.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too."

The tone of Bruce and Pepper's phone conversations changed since then. For one thing, it included mutually abusing the persons who contributed to— or were currently contributing to— Steve's unspoken misery and Tony's Tony-ness. Bruce didn't remember how it came up, or who brought it up, let alone why, but Bruce learned Pepper Potts had access to Howard Stark's Captain America collection in New York (he assumed a day of Howard abuse brought it up). Anyway, according to JARVIS, it had every item related to Captain America in existence (probably).

This meant it would also have all the feature films, including the movie Steve mentioned.

"Oh, I know that movie," said Pepper brightly when Bruce asked. "It's _Captain America and his Freedom Fighters_."

Bruce could tell how awful it was going to be just from the title. "How bad is it?"

"The 'Sarge' character is the only saving grace of that movie, and that's because he looks really pretty when he cries."

Bruce shivered at the promised of pure terrible. "I wanna see it."

"I'm flying to New York next week. We'll have a movie night. Thursday. Don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t seemed to write serious scene without ending in ridiculous humor. Is this Joss Whedon-ism? I can’t say… I didn’t confirm if collegeboard.org’s generic college application lets one go as far as 1922. I assumed it didn’t. Bad fanfic writer!


	4. Iron Man, Part Three

Pepper showed up next Thursday with several carefully sealed film reels as promised. She also caught Bruce and Steve jamming to  _We Built This City_.

"Starship. Really, Bruce?" asked Pepper, eyebrows raised.

"There's nothing wrong with stupid pop," said Bruce, while Steve blinked innocently.

JARVIS killed the music. "Welcome back, Ms. Potts. Dr. Banner has told me you will be watching a feature movie recorded in 35mm film. Shall I set up the movie projector, or should I convert the film to digital?"

Pepper thought for a split second.

"Convert to digital, please, JARVIS. Thank you."

Pepper placed the reels in a depository box so JARVIS could work on digitizing them. While they waited, Steve made popcorn on the stove, Bruce heated samosas and deep-fried crab wontons, and Pepper changed into comfortable clothes.

"How was your day?" Steve asked.

"Could've been worse," said Pepper. "Meetings, meetings, and more meetings … and I had to answer the board why our green energy line isn't profitable, and why we're still pursuing it."

Steve hummed thoughtfully. "Bruce explained green energy to me. Good ideas, not-so-good economics, sounds like. Are you in the red?"

"Blood red. Very red," Pepper sighed. "I know we're doing the right thing, but we still need to justify the expense. Anything that would let it generate revenue will be welcome, honestly."

Steve nodded, looking pensive. Bruce, who was now quite familiar with Steve's moods and mannerisms, especially when Steve was in the intermediate state, was intrigued because 'pensive' usually meant Steve was mulling over an idea. So he told Pepper.

Pepper looked positively devious when Bruce finished talking. She did not, however, make any mention of it, even as they settled down on the sectional couch and JARVIS dimmed the lights.

"I actually never saw the whole movie," Steve confessed.

"Didn't have the time or didn't bother?" asked Bruce.

"Both. I told the director to make me a sidekick to cut down my film time."

Bruce and Pepper shared a knowing look.

"Does that mean we can talk during the film?" asked Bruce.

"Don't be rude, Bruce," said Steve, not at all serious.

"But our commentary may be the only thing that'll make it bearable," said Pepper. "Oh, it started."

They looked. Indeed there was Captain America, marching into a dimly lit office. No one recognized him except Steve ("That's Jeffery Mace. He was good people. Just a bit … slow."). A Colonel, who was seated behind the single desk, dramatically threw a folder towards the Captain, saying it contained his latest assignment. Once Captain America finished reading it and stated the purpose of his mission ("storm the Nazi-captured city and rescue the allied prisoners"), the Colonel ordered him to gather his team.

"It's like every Captain America film cliché rolled in one," Bruce remarked.

"Actually, I think this is the only film where he's part of a team made of peers," said Pepper.

Captain America went around the base and gathered his men, all of them tall and big, and each one caught doing something that made their strength and role in the team clear. Once a team of six was assembled, a guy asked: "Where's Sarge?" In lieu of an answer, the camera dramatically cut to a bird's-eye view of a European city. It focused on a lone figure wearing a waterproof poncho, sitting on a roof. The person's face was half-hidden under a helmet that had a painted white star in the middle and tinted eyeshield. Then the radio at his feet cackled, and Captain America's voice came through:

" _Sarge, we're suiting up. Report to base by 1500._ "

'Sarge' didn't reply, but remained perfectly still and silent. In the streets below and roof-tops adjacent, one could see soldiers wearing Nazi uniforms milling about.

" _Sergeant?_ " Captain America repeated.

Sarge stood up. The waterproof pooled around his feet, revealing the circular Captain America shield. Bruce also noticed Sarge was built just like intermediate state Steve.

" _Heard you loud and clear, Cap_ ," said Steve's voice. " _I'll be there in fifteen minutes_."

No one spoke for a beat while on screen Sarge/Steve picked up the radio and shield.

"Ohmygosh, it's you," said Pepper, staring at Steve. "Sarge is _you._ "

Steve smiled wryly. "I did ask to be the sidekick."

Sarge walked to the end roof. Then he ran towards the other end and leaped off the edge. The camera cut to the street, looking up, to show Sarge falling down, legs crossed at the ankles and arms spread to the sides. The next cut showed Sarge's face while freefalling. His mouth was set into an expressionless line until the last second, when it briefly curled into a small smirk. Then the camera cut again to the street, where Sarge landed in the middle of a small crowd of Nazis, visibly growing larger.

"That, was _really_ good," said Bruce as he stared at the dramatic shoot-out scene that followed.

"Thanks," said Steve. "It took fifteen takes to get it right."

The rest of the film mostly consisted of extended battles sequences featuring Jeffrey-Cap & Beefcake Co., with propaganda speeches in between. Bruce and Pepper got tired of these quick, so they fast forwarded whenever they noticed the tanks, guns, and foxholes. Pepper resumed normal speed whenever a European city or Nazi base showed up, because that was usually the cue for Sarge to make an appearance.

Sarge was clearly the token stealth guy of team Captain America. He rarely appeared, but when he did, he was breaking into bases, rigging things to explode, and escaping the resulting flames using fantastic ninja moves that involved a lot of leaping over fiery pits, crashing through windows and jumping over ledges, all while saying something pithy and clever. Despite the short camera time, the film managed to include Sarge pulling several _Captain America Is Disappointed In You, Son_ faces, and one epic _I'm Surrounded by Idiots_ eye roll Bruce was sure was genuine.

"Did they use special effects here?" Pepper asked as they watched Sarge crash through a third-story stained glass window backward and throw a grenade at the Enemy at the same time.

"No, that was me actually crashing through a prop window," said Steve.

There were two more fights after the crash-through-a-window scene, all of them meant to highlight Captain America's battle prowess. At last the movie took a breather and transitioned to the-hour-before-last-battle reflective moment. Captain America first checked the troops, and then cornered Sarge, who was standing alone and staring at the Last Fortress from a distance. The two talked about the fight they were going to face tomorrow, and what would happen after.

" _With any hope, tomorrow's fight will herald the end to the war,_ " said Jeffrey-Cap.

Sarge remained dark and sombre. " _Maybe. But what if it isn't? We sacrificed a lot, and I dunno if there's anything left to give."_

" _No, I'm sure tomorrow will the beginning of the end. As for sacrifices, it was all worth it. We fought for the hope of a future where there is peace and quiet and prosperity for our children. I can think of no worthy goal than that. Don't you agree,_ _Sergeant_ _?_ "

Sarge did his signature one-sided smirk.

" _Sure, Cap. I gave all my hope to that future. I kept none for myself._ "

"That's a foreshadow, isn't it?" muttered Bruce, while Pepper hugged a cushion breathlessly.

They didn't skip the Final Battle. After five minutes of badly choreographed fisticuffs, Captain America punched out Hitler. Almost predictably, Sarge sacrificed himself so the rest of the team could make their escape: there were heartbreaking last words ("I've got this"), and a single manly tear on Sarge's stoic and helmet-less face before a massive explosion took out the fortress with Sarge still in it.

"Oh my heart," breathed Pepper while Captain America & Co. screamed " _SARGE!_ " in anguish and unison.

A tearful mourning scene ensued. Then team Captain America faced the burning fortress, faces stoic to a man, and saluted their fallen comrade.

"Here comes the flag. Yep, there's the flag," said Bruce as Captain America broke into his final speech that was no-doubt meant to be inspiring.

The end credits rolled. Everyone seemed to sag into their seats and exhale. A mark of a good movie experience if there ever was one.

"Well, that wasn't too horrible," said Bruce, at last.

"It's a decent summer blockbuster type of movie, all things considered," Pepper agreed.

"Not worth the week I had to spend on set," Steve grumbled. "Peggy and Bucky weren't at all pleased when they heard what I had to do."

Pepper grinned. "I still say you make the movie worth watching. Would you mind if it was released again?"

Steve looked bewildered. "Why would anyone want it re-released? And these films are government property. How do I have a say?"

"PR," said Pepper. "There's been a lot of renewed interest in Captain America since New York. Naturally, people want to see the old films. While you don't have rights on the film themselves, you do get a say on what you prefer to see released because the US army wants you to like them."

Steve twitched. So did Bruce. Neither of them paid any sort of attention to the media reaction to the Avengers. The most Bruce did was see if he was caught bare ass nude on camera (he wasn't). Now it sounded like they would have to think about it.

"I'll … do what you think is best, Pepper, if you don't mind," said Steve.

"Me, too," Bruce muttered.

"Good choice," said Pepper, beaming. "I'll get in touch with SHIELD public relations. Steve, I'll call you when I get more information. Okay? Okay."

oooo

In the days that followed, Steve spent at least an hour teleconferencing Pepper. Bruce couldn't say he was paying much attention to these meetings because he was preoccupied with coordinating his and Steve's temporary move to DC. And if the meetings were about PR, then he'd rather think about moving, thanks.

Planning the move itself wasn't as bad as it could've been. Bruce had JARVIS, and SHIELD was going to cover his and Steve's relocation costs. SHIELD also gave them a list of recommended accommodations, but the prices left both Bruce and Steve feeling faint. So Bruce hit craigslist and AirBnB to find something more affordable. He knew from his time at Culver University that while DC was expensive and sometimes dangerous, Maryland had sublets that were relatively cheap. So Bruce made JARVIS search Maryland.

"Why not Northern Virginia, Dr. Banner? Springfield may be a viable option," JARVIS asked.

"I'm not going to NOVA," said Bruce flatly.

"As you wish, Doctor," said JARVIS. If Bruce didn't know better, he would've thought the A.I. sighed.

Before long, JARVIS found five potential locations. Bruce presented them to Steve over lunch (pita bread and curried chicken for Bruce; power smoothie #15 for Steve).

"This one is in a university district, and that one is close to JHU in Baltimore," said Bruce, as they pored over five printouts. "The one in Ellicott City is probably the nicest, but it's far from everything. The one in Rockville is the cheapest, but it has the strictest house rules of the lot and we have to share it with the landlord."

Steve frowned at the choices. "Which one do you prefer?"

"I'm rather partial to the Bethesda location. It's Metro-accessible, NIH is down the street, sort of, and 30 minutes away from DC. In theory. DMV has awful traffic."

Bruce called the rentals/sublets, went through the phone screening process if any, and made appointments to visit. The university district landlord sounded a bit shady, so Bruce crossed it off the list. He and Steve then made travel arrangements. Bruce advised Steve against motorcycle travel ("It's best to assume the drivers on I-95 are out to get you"). Since neither of them was partial to planes or buses, and Steve vehemently vetoed trains, they borrowed a car. One of Tony's Audis, to be exact.

The drive took nine hours. Bruce inflicted pop music of the last thirty years on Steve for the duration. By the time they checked into a hotel late at night, both Steve and Bruce were utterly done with each other. They remained moody and nonverbal until morning, at which point they started their rental check-up tour.

The basement sublet near Baltimore had mold, therefore not worth a second glance, but Steve thought this was ludicrous because it had heating and a bathroom. This led to a long talk on what was acceptable living conditions in 21st century North America vs that during the Great Depression. Speaking of which, Steve liked the Bethesda apartment, but it had no ventilation in the bathroom, a clear violation of code if there ever was one, so Bruce rejected it. The Ellicott City apartment was very nice, but simply too far from everything, so it was a no go. That left the Rockville sublet.

Bruce knew where he wanted to live for the next three months the moment he stepped inside the Rockville rental. It was nestled in a neighborhood that was quiet and walker friendly. The house itself was a detached two story single-family home, one of the unfortunate products of the mid-seventies, which had hardwood floors and an open floor plan that let in a lot of sunlight. The living room beyond the raised foyer was decorated like a cozy private library: all the walls had tall bookshelves made of solid wood, and there were lamps, oil paintings and comfortable couches scattered about. Then they met the landlord, who turned out to be a tiny, skinny and pale-faced woman who barely reached Steve's nose.

"Welcome, I am Lucy Le," she said.

"Hi, I'm Bruce Banner," said Bruce. "This is Steve."

Lucy smiled warmly at Steve but attempted no small talk. Instead, she went straight to business by offering them a tour.

The rest of the house was very much like the living room. There were books everywhere, even in the garage. Lucy said they could use her laundry room, second fridge and kitchen ("but not my things"). Then she showed them the available bedrooms. They were all on the second floor: two furnished small bedrooms to the west and a larger unfurnished room with cathedral ceilings to the east (Lucy occupied the master suite facing north). The full bath available for renters was clean and very much in code (and a bonus stand of pamphlets).

"This is very nice. Very nice indeed," said Bruce after the tour.

"Thank you. Now will you be sharing a room, or does your son prefer to have his own space?" Lucy asked.

Bruce was so unsettled by Lucy's words that his brain automatically latched on to the most easily answerable question: "Uh, separate. The two small ones."

Steve blinked at Bruce. Lucy, on the other hand, appeared oblivious.

"Okay. And you will be staying for three months?" she asked.

"Yes," Bruce mumbled.

"The rent does not include utilities," Lucy went on. "Since there are two of you, I expect you to pay 66% of the heating, water, and electric fees. I do, however, include Wi-Fi in the rent."

"That's reasonable," Bruce replied.

"I require a month's rent for deposit. That is for both rooms."

"Okay."

"Good. I only need two more things from you, Mr. Banner: proof of employment and a credit check."

Bruce clumsily produced a copy of the contract letter he got from SHIELD. To his mild surprise, Steve also pulled out some sheet of papers and gave them to Lucy.

"Very good, very good," said Lucy as she read Bruce's documentation. Then she read Steve's and her eyebrows went up. "Oh, you are an intern for Stark Industries. I heard it is very difficult to be one. Your son must be very smart, Mr. Banner."

Bruce was not, strictly speaking, capable of responding to this comment.

"I use an online service for a credit check," said Lucy, after she put the letters to the side. "I will send you the link to your email. It will ask you to create an account and enter the necessary information. The site will return the results to me after you submit. I will not have access to any personal information you enter. There is a twenty dollar non-refundable processing fee. If all is well, I will call you."

Bruce nodded numbly.

"I think that is all. Do you have any questions?" Lucy said.

Bruce was about to say 'no' when Steve raised a hand.

"What kind of roommate are you? If we're gonna share living space, we should know what we're like in general, if not necessarily the worse about each other."

Lucy raised her eyebrows. Steve briefly glanced at one of her many bookshelves and grinned. It made Lucy side-eye the same spot and then smile slyly like she understood what Steve was getting at.

"I work from home three times a week," said Lucy. "I prefer to spend my evenings quietly on my own. I go to my friends, but they rarely come to me. I cook a lot and often share the results. You?"

Bruce reclocked himself in time. "We're both workaholic hermits. We'll probably use this place mostly for sleeping. I cook sometimes. Steve eats a lot of smoothies because of stomach problems."

"So you will use the blender a lot?"

"Yes. At least three times a day."

Lucy nodded. "I can live with that. Any more questions? No? Well then, it was very nice to meet you and son, Mr. Banner. I hope to call you soon."

They shook hands and left. Bruce and Steve said nothing for a long time as they drove back to New York.

"She thinks I'm your son," Steve blurted suddenly.

"I'm sorry," Bruce babbled. "I didn't think. I mean, she wanted a credit check, that's pretty standard for good sublets, and I'm pretty sure your SSN has expired and-"

Bruce stuttered to a halt because Steve smile was absolutely dazzling.

"It's okay Bruce. I liked it."

oooo

Bruce and Steve avoided talking about the Lucy situation until she called Bruce to say his credit check was clear. Afterward, by unspoken agreement, they decided to go along with the unintentional charade, as it made their living situation easy to explain.

But then JARVIS somehow found out and ratted it to Pepper and Tony.

"Oh, that's just precious," Tony crowed. "Should we call him Steven Banner now?"

"Shut up, Tony. Seriously, shut up," groaned Bruce.

"How old did she think he was?" asked Pepper, a twinkle in her eye. "Twelve? Thirteen?"

Bruce didn't want to answer, but whatever resolve he had withered under Pepper's scrutiny.

"High school. Clever, over-achieving high schooler doing an Internship with Stark Industries."

Pepper and Tony shared a commiserating look. Bruce wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"You should've asked me about digs in DC, Bruce," said Tony. "I have a house down River Road, you know. But this makes it worth it. Absolutely and totally."

Bruce definitely didn't want to know. "Sure."

The days passed, and the time to occupy their new digs came. Steve resolutely insisted on taking the motorcycle, so Bruce splurged on a bike of his own — a beat-up Triumph Scrambler that was half rust — and the two drove south. Dangerously preoccupied drivers trying to hit them aside, their second trip from NY to MD was much more pleasant than their previous one. Something about the open air and racing … Bruce felt ten years younger as he cut through the wind.

Lucy raised an eyebrow when she saw the two motorcycles on her driveway. Then she shrugged and told them to NEVER get in the way of her Honda Fit, _ever_. Bruce and Steve both brought little in terms of belongings, so in no time at all they were situated and ready to report to the Triskelion — i.e. SHIELD HQ.

Well, as ready as they ever could be. Bruce spent a sleepless night wondering what SHIELD would strong arm him to do this time around.

Bruce didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up when his alarm went off at 6 a.m.. Bruce blindly donned a bathrobe and stumbled downstairs. He found Lucy cooking oatmeal in a pot, and Steve hovering over her shoulder. The narrow farmer's table shoved against a wall had a pot of coffee brewing. Bruce made a beeline to it.

"Good morning," said Steve brightly. "Lucy's making us breakfast."

"Just this once, Steven, I am not your housekeeper," said Lucy.

"GmrrrhgnghCoffmmg," Bruce mumbled.

"Yes, you may have the coffee," said Lucy.

Steve poured a mug and handed it over to Bruce, who took it and then fell into a chair. While Bruce hunched over his mug, Steve joined him with two large bowls of oatmeal, looking far too excited about it.

"Can we have sugar?" Steve asked.

"Not your housekeeper," said Lucy sternly.

Nevertheless, Lucy put down a pot of sugar on the dining table. Steve dumped a tooth-rotting amount into Bruce's mug, and just as much into their respective bowls of oatmeal.

"Going to work today, both of you?" asked Lucy.

Steve and Bruce nodded wordlessly.

"Bruce, you need to wake up before the morning rush," said Lucy, "Steven, your suit is too big."

Bruce groaned. Steve, who always dressed with Captain America in mind, therefore destined to look like a nineties kid when smaller, said nothing.

Lucy had five egg-and-avocado sandwiches and four ham-and-cheese made by the time Steve and Bruce came back downstairs, washed and ready. She brown-bagged all but one egg sandwich and shoved the lot into Steve's hands like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then she stuffed two Fuji apples into Bruce's pocket and shooed them out of her house.

They walked to Rockville Metro Station. Steve transformed to Captain America on the way. Bruce, who was now used to seeing Steve as a frail looking teen about 5 foot 7 and 110 lb (max), found this very upsetting.

"I know I've got no leg to stand on, but I don't think there's a reason for you to be nervous," said Bruce as he trotted after Steve's now longer strides.

"I'm not," Steve sighed. "Just … _mirrors_."

Bruce felt the urge to break every reflective glass in their vicinity. "Right."

The Metro ride to DC was interminable. Bruce had a nice nap and Steve got halfway through a paperback before they arrived at the Triskelion. Like at the Avengers Initiative, Natasha Romanoff came to escort them. _Unlike_ the Avengers Initiative, SHIELD had Bruce to fill out paperwork.

"Has Bruce been showing you how to dress?" asked Natasha, while Bruce signed the nth non-disclosure document. The remark made Bruce picture Steve's outfit in his head: khakis, a deeply tragic red half-turtleneck and even more tragic taupe jacket (both too small).

"He told me about Carl Sagan," said Steve.

Bruce could feel Natasha's condemning look on the back of his head. It made him feel victorious.

Natasha took them to Triskelion's training facility (i.e. gym) once Bruce submitted his paperwork. There she introduced Steve and Bruce to Brock Rumlow, a tanned, dark-haired and extremely fit man around Bruce's age.

"SSR had a file on what you're capable of, Captain, and we want to confirm the contents," said Rumlow. "Dr. Banner, we'd like you to preside and take measurements."

"I'm not that kind of doctor," Bruce protested.

"But you can be," said Natasha.

Bruce sighed. He supposed he could.

"The file also said your body has a 'stealth' mode," Rumlow continued. "We're not sure what that is. Can you show us?"

Bruce tensed. Here it was. He and Steve were expecting this. The words still jolted him, though, because Bruce was still uncertain about SHIELD knowing Steve's intermediate state. But, as demonstrated this morning, Steve couldn't exactly control when the transformations happened. Better show it voluntarily and have SHIELD's good will than not. Except right now it was going to be a challenge. Triskelion's gym, like most gyms, had a wall of mirrors. Should he ask to have them covered? But before Bruce could say anything, Steve told Rumlow and Natasha:

"Give me a sec."

They waited. For a moment it looked like Steve fell asleep standing. Then Steve started to shudder and shrink.

When the transformation was over, Rumlow looked at lost for words and Natasha was similarly astonished.

"I," said Bruce, in what he hoped was a stunned tone, "am going to need two separate folders."

Rumlow regained his voice. "What's the difference between the two? Besides the obvious, I mean."

"I lift more when I'm bigger. I'm faster when I'm smaller," said Steve simply.

"This I gotta see," Rumlow muttered. "Right. Romanoff, you spar Cap. Doc and I will record and observe."

Natasha smirked, looking predatory. Steve looked a bit dubious but nodded.

Bruce and Rumlow cleared the floor so the two could spar. Steve and Natasha then stood in the middle, barefoot and no protective gear. Bruce couldn't help but note skinny-Steve was about the same height as Natasha, but didn't look anywhere near as healthy or fit, and worry over it.

Natasha made the first move. She kicked, aiming at Steve's left knee. Steve raised a foot to parry. Natasha used it to spin and wrapped her legs around Steve's neck. For a moment, Bruce thought Natasha was going to win.

Then Steve simply vanished.

Natasha landed on her hands and quickly rolled back to her feet. She was clearly astonished. Everyone looked around: ceiling, floor, and corners. Still no Steve. Something was moving inside the gym, though, because they could hear the air ripping.

Then, all of a sudden, Natasha was on the ground, knocked out clean. Steve was crouching over her on the next blink.

"Oi, you okay?" said Steve, worried, and lightly tapping her temple.

Natasha's green eyes shot open. She was breathing fast.

"Holy _Sh!t_ …!" she rasped, eyes wild.

Steve turned distraught. "Sorry. I'm so sorry..."

Natasha took a moment to calm down, while Rumlow swore a blue streak.

"Why wasn't this recorded?!" he shouted.

"They couldn't catch me at 24 frames per second," Steve explained.

"They could've said that!"

Steve shrugged helplessly.

"Why didn't you use this in New York?" Natasha asked.

Steve flinched. "I _couldn't_. I rarely can in the heat of battle. That's why it's stealth mode."

Natasha licked her lips. "It requires concentration, huh?"

Steve paused and then nodded.

"Well," said Rumlow, dark eyes glinting, "let's see if we can change that."

oooo

Rumlow put Steve through several rounds of different sparring partners, and thrice spared Steve himself. None of them stood any kind of chance; Steve in either mode wiped the floor with them in twenty seconds or less.

(Bruce got a sense the SHIELD agents collectively decided while mere mortals cannot defeat Captain America, they could at least take comfort in the fact they could _see_ him … unlike intermediate-state Steve, who was so fast it was piss-in-your-pants terrifying. Bruce supposed that accomplished Steve's goal to become too strong and fast for SHIELD to touch.)

After the bouts at the gym, Natasha said Steve was expected at SHIELD medical. Rumlow left to give his report, presumably.

"Are they gonna run tests?" Bruce asked while Steve transformed back to Captain America. "Shouldn't they have done it before all the sparing?"

"We weren't expecting Steve's 'stealth' mode to be like this," Natasha said. "Like you said, it deserves its own folder, not just a footnote."

Bruce had a bad feeling about this. "The SSR file didn't have anything on it, huh. Can I read it?"

"You can ask Dr. Fernando. He has access."

Natasha escorted them to SHIELD medical. There, Bruce shook hands with Dr. Ajith Fernando, head of SHIELD medical department and board certified trauma surgeon ("my skills are, unfortunately, in high demand"). When Bruce asked him about Steve's file, one of his assistants handed over an old folder that had the SSR ("Strategic Scientific Reserve") logo on it.

Bruce read through the clinical list of "Captain America" mode Steve's physical capacities:

 

  * Subject is capable of extreme muscular endurance due to the lack of fatigue related acid buildup.
  * Subject has enhanced metabolic functions, to an approximation of 400% increase in metabolic rate compared to the average human adult.
  * Subject is approximately 350% more vulnerable than the average adult to the effects of starvation and dehydration, due to the roughly equivalent stomach capacity but extremely enhanced metabolism.
  * Subject is immune to drug intoxication.
  * Subject is highly resistant to toxins. Resistance is approximately 850% greater than an average human adult.
  * Subject is highly resistant to mind-alteration.
  * Subject is approximately 400% more resistant than the average human adult to the effects of electric shock.



 

The moment he read about Steve's heightened resistance to electric shock, Bruce knew why SSR didn't record anything about intermediate-state Steve. After the first round of tests, Steve would've been too traumatized to stay there. Not for the first time, Bruce wished he could grab the old scientists of SSR and shake them until their teeth rattled.

Bruce returned the file in disgust after reading it through. By then Steve was standing in rigid attention, as though bracing for pain. Dr. Fernando noticed.

"I want you to know, Captain Rogers, that we will not be performing any of the … tests SSR had subjected you to," he said earnestly. "I asked you to come here due to my concerns that, should you be significantly injured in the field, we will be forced to operate on you without the benefit of anesthesia. If there is a way to avoid the situation, I want to have it as an option."

Steve relaxed a bit. "Understood."

"Thank you," Dr. Fernando said. "Now, I was given to understand you can shrink your body. My hope is that the smaller body mass means we can use our normal procedures, albeit modified to suit your heightened metabolism. Unfortunately, this does mean we need to test its efficacy."

Steve sighed. "I understand. And I appreciate what you're doing. My old teammate, Grant, he got hit by a shell. The serum … it took him a long time to die."

Dr. Fernando and his assistants somberly took a step back after Steve said this. Then they all waited for Steve to transform. But for a long time, nothing happened.

"…Sorry," said Steve at length. "I'm going to need some help."

"What do you need?" Bruce asked.

Steve didn't reply. Bruce guessed Steve either didn't know what kind of help was needed or else was too embarrassed to ask. So Bruce tried to recall what Betty did to calm the Other Guy down two years ago. (Two years; had it really been that long…?)

Bruce offered a hand. Steve looked at it for a moment. Then, with utmost hesitation that bordered on shyness, clasped it.

A profound, heavy quiet settled in the lab when Steve finished shrinking. Bruce glanced at Dr. Fernando. He had turned a milky brown shade and looked absolutely aghast.

In a blinking, Bruce knew what was going through his head. Dr. Fernando had access to Steve's old medical files. Therefore he would know Steve was originally five foot four and ninety-five pounds, would know the super-soldier serum Steve received may only work for a very specific age group, and that the shrinking implied Steve was returning to the pre-serum state. There was really only one conclusion he could make when he saw just how heartbreakingly young Steve looked when smaller.

"…Excuse me," Dr. Fernando choked.

He stormed out. A few of his assistants ran after him.

Bruce took in a deep breath in the awkward silence that followed. It was good to know there were good people within SHIELD.

oooo

Bruce and Steve's first day at the Triskelion ended a few hours after Dr. Fernando returned, looking furious and dejected. He grimly tested Steve on various forms of regional anesthesia and made plans to test Steve for general anesthesia. Then he took Bruce aside for a word.

"I couldn't convince Director Fury that he's underage," said Dr. Fernando. "I'll do what I can, but I don't think I can prove he's younger than eighteen. At least he agreed Captain Rogers should be sent to the field sparingly, knowing what may result if or when he gets seriously injured."

"Won't you get in trouble?" Bruce asked.

Fernando shrugged. "He reminded me of my own children. They're older than him."

Natasha met them outside the Medical Department. She took one look at intermediate-state Steve and pounced.

"You're so adorable, looking like this," she cooed, clinging like a limpet, and rubbing her entire body against Steve's. Bruce felt violated just by looking at them.

"What are you doing? Get off," Steve squeaked, turning bright red.

Natasha just tightened her grip. "You know you'd look a lot cuter if you didn't dress like Carl Sagan. We should go shopping. Are you free this Saturday?"

Steve pried Natasha off and stood stiffly.

"Any word on my documentation?"

"Last I heard, SHIELD and the US Army were still fighting over who gets to sponsor your soon-to-be-reissued-papers," Natasha replied.

"So I still need to prove I'm worth the trouble," Steve huffed.

Natasha shrugged. "If you got any alternatives, I suggest you pursue them. Now back to shopping: Westfield Mall on a Saturday? You won't regret it, I promise."

"Fine," Steve sighed. "Just don't cling."

Natasha grinned. "Deal."

oooo

Steve and Bruce fell into a routine after the eventful first day at work. They'd commute to the Triskelion, various SHIELD personnel would put Steve through the paces, and Bruce would monitor the progress and results. In the afternoons, Bruce would join Dr. Fernando and his team, while Agent Rumlow oversaw Steve's physical training for 2 hours. Natasha was often present during these exercises. Once in a while, Nick Fury would stand ominously in the back and watch Steve do something that shouldn't be humanly possible.

(Like run close to half the speed of sound. Bruce and Dr. Fernando told Steve to never use it because the resulting G-forces left internal damage [but left the cardiovascular system intact; it made no f&#-ing sense]. Steve protested the prohibition because the damage healed within hours. Definitely a sign of young person immortality syndrome, Bruce thought.)

After a month of tests, everyone, including Bruce, started calling Steve's intermediate state "optimal mode" (Skinny-Steve for short; because no matter how much Rumlow pushed Steve to eat, Steve didn't gain weight). Steve, at 5 foot 7-8 inches, could achieve 80% of Captain America's physical abilities, but without needing to consume as much as Captain America (only 20% as much in fact). Also, Skinny-Steve was arguably smarter than Captain America, at least certainly when it came to large-scale tactics.

To measure Steve's mental capacity, SHIELD made both Cap-Steve and Skinny-Steve sit through conventional IQ tests, Raven's Progressive Matrices, and more recently developed intelligence measuring exams on a computer. Cap-Steve scored higher on spatial orientation and visual attention, but Skinny-Steve scored several orders of magnitude higher on pattern recognition, impulse control, logic and abstract reasoning (mathematics and memory were two areas Steve scored roughly the same). In short, Skinny-Steve had better brains overall, though how or why was anyone's good guess.

To measure Steve's tactical and operational readiness, SHIELD used a simulation war game that reminded Bruce of Ender's Game meet Star Craft meet Mafia. A level's complexity was, as far as Bruce could tell, determined based on the scarcity of resources, intelligence, and enemy-to-friend ratio. It wasn't long before a pattern emerged: Cap-Steve preferred to do things on an individual ground level, and struggled to keep things under control once the number of people under his command went above 150. In contrast, Skinny-Steve could lead several hundred thousand strong armies no problem. Some of the things Skinny-Steve did as commander left people babbling about it for days. Bruce would never forget the one time Skinny-Steve led a hideously out-gunned and out-numbered splinter group that was very close to getting decimated by the opposition. To achieve the technical definition of victory, Steve first identified the main players of the opposition. Then, by arrangement, Steve "died" via friendly fire. This threw the opposition in confusion, because everyone thought Steve was part of the splinter group (one of the game's challenges was no one knew for sure who belonged to which group; a true spy game). The splinter group cut down main players of the increasingly confused opposition until they retreated in defeat.

"Commander Rogers, please remember to use a Life Model Decoy if you ever decide to pull this kind of Thanato's gambit shit move," Nick Fury said at the end of that particular game.

"I'll try, sir," said Steve.

So went the first month. Then as the second month in DC grew older, the demand to measure Steve's physical capabilities died down, but the demand for 'Commander Rogers' went through the roof. This meant Bruce had to spend hours sitting next to Steve, monitoring vitals, while Steve played war games. Because, try as they might, SHIELD couldn't find the trigger that made Steve abruptly change to Captain America in the heat of battle, and the only person who could calm Steve back to skinny-mode was Bruce. If anyone thought this was weird as all hell, no one remarked upon it.

(Okay, maybe a few people stared.)

(Maybe)

And so another month went by. Bruce started counting the days he and Steve could leave the DMV. As fun as the war games could get, what they implied started to really bother Bruce.

Case In Point: Bruce met Agent Clint Barton, who had been ordered to report to the Triskelion so he could participate in a simulation that recreated the Helicarrier attack.

"Are you okay with that Agent Barton?" Bruce asked. "I mean, considering…"

"It's sh!t orders, yeah, but it's still orders," said Agent Barton. "And I did kind of lead the real one, so."

Bruce made a face. Barton looked at him and pulled a twisted smile.

"Aw, Doc, it's okay. This isn't the first Helicarrier war game I did against Cap. It's just first one I'll do in DC. Hey, did you know Fury's making us call him _Commander Rogers_ when he's skinny?"

Bruce was startled. "Aaaah, no, actually I didn't. Why would he do that?"

"Well, rank matters, even in paramilitary," said Agent Barton. "There's different expectations for Captains versus Generals. So maybe Fury wants us to think Skinny-Rogers as a _General_. Or commander. Or whatever the hell SHIELD's supposed to call the General-equivalent."

Bruce thought about this. He wasn't sure if liked the idea of Fury liking Commander Rogers more than he did Captain America.

"Do you mind?" Bruce asked.

"Nope."

"Do _other_ people mind?"

Barton shrugged. "I don't know. Personally, I feel safer when he's at the helm. Like, I don't have to worry about getting thrown under the bus. The first time I felt like this since I joined SHIELD."

"I guess I can always assume you represent the sentiment of many," Bruce remarked.

Agent Barton grinned. "Aw, Doc, you say the nicest things."

Bruce brooded over Fury's machinations during three non-stop hours of simulations. In the end he decided he was completely out of his depth. He needed to talk to someone, but he didn't know who. The only one who he knew for sure was on the same page as him was Tony, but how was he to arrange it? SHIELD monitored _everything_ , often literally. He knew this because Steve, for whatever reason, was terribly interested in SHIELD's IT infrastructure and data/energy consumption, and asked SHIELD's IT guys all sorts of questions. (The IT guys were quite awed at these QA either because Captain America was talking to them, or Captain America was capable of asking them penetrating questions that left them scrambling for answers.)

Bruce got his lucky break at lunch. After the simulations, Bruce, Steve, Natasha and Barton decided to have lunch together at the Triskelion's cafeteria. Steve was given nutritional gruel, Natasha picked a colorful salad, and Clint ordered burgers and fries. Bruce ordered nothing; Lucy, for all her protests that she was not their housekeeper, kept giving Steve and Bruce—mostly Steve— brown bag lunches, even after Steve threw up all over her dinner table.

"What's that?" Steve asked, staring curiously at Agent Barton's lunch.

Barton blinked incredulously. "A hamburger."

"Looks like a Salisbury steak sandwich," Steve remarked.

Bruce resisted the urge to Google " _hamburger NYC 1940_ ". From the corner of his eye, he saw Barton and Natasha take out their phones and type away. Bruce envied them.

"Never had one before?" asked Bruce.

"I've only seen pictures," said Steve.

Bruce felt his throat tightened. "Wanna try it? We can order another."

"I don't think I can stomach it," said Steve regretfully. "And you know I'm not supposed to have bread or potatoes."

"Aw, man, they put you on a low-carb diet. That's brutal," said Barton sympathetically.

Steve couldn't have looked more dejected. "If my Nan knew I'm voluntarily forgoing 'taters, she'd defy the final resurrection and to give me an earful."

The rest of lunch consisted of Barton ranting SHIELD had no right to grumble over Steve's lack of weight gain when they were denying Steve nice things like pizza and burgers. Meanwhile, Bruce texted Tony:

_News Flash: Steve never had a hamburger_

Tony called him in two minutes.

"Brucie Bear! You don't call, you don't write, and the first text you send me in three months is Captain America never had the most American food in modern history. It breaks my heart. Now get him three all-American Cheeseburgers, stat!"

Natasha and Barton snickered while Bruce answered calmly:

"I'm calling now, you never called me either, SHIELD put Steve on a low-carb diet, so no burgers."

"Bullsh!t," said Tony emphatically. "I'm bringing you burgers. The juiciest, most American burgers money can buy. And we're all gonna eat them like one big happy family."

Three hours later, on their walk back to Rockville, Steve received a phone call from Lucy.

" _Steven!_ " she shouted. " _Why is Iron Man on my driveway?!_ "

Steve was a picture of bewildered surprise. "Stark?! What-"

" _Get off my lawn!_ " Lucy interrupted.

The call ended there. Bruce and Steve shared horrified looks.

"He's really here," Steve whispered.

"Oh god," Bruce groaned.

They ran. The first thing they noticed in their neighborhood was the crowd of kids and parents staring at Iron Man, who was leaving burn marks on Lucy's lawn with his feet repulsors.

Then Tony look up and noticed Bruce and Steve gaping at him.

"Steve! Bruce!" he exclaimed, raising his face plate (Steve turned red and looked away, in a clear body-language of: "Please, I don't know this man!") "Just the people I'm looking for! Hey, kids, did you know Steve is awfully smart? Like, _borderline genius_ smart? In a few weeks, you're gonna learn what happens when you use your brain well. Like Steve."

Now the parents were looking at Steve with considerable interest. Steve cringed and turned redder.

"You should've just taken up the Amazon offer," said Bruce, patting Steve's shoulder.

"Don't remind me. _Dad_ ," Steve groused.

Bruce and Steve ushered Tony into Lucy's house while he rambled something about rescuing Steve from evil people who did not let interns have hamburgers and brandishing an oily paper bag. Tony turned only slightly less manic indoors and even thoughtfully put away his armor before sitting on a chair (Bruce was absolutely sure none of Lucy's chairs would hold up five hundred pounds of Iron Man armor). Lucy was still not impressed.

"Are you drunk, Mr. Stark?" she asked.

"Mmmmno," said Tony. "Hey, don't worry about the lawn, I'll fix it. Well, I'll pay someone to fix it…"

"That is missing the point," said Lucy sternly. "Why are you here, acting as though you are drunk?"

Tony stared at Lucy with bloodshot eyes. "Have you heard of contractions? They're very useful. It makes English sound less painful."

"Stark, when's the last time you slept?" said Steve.

Tony blinked. Then he opened his mouth.

"I know the difference between drunk and sleep deprived," Steve said before he could say anything. "You don't stink of alcohol. Ergo, you haven't slept. And don't imagine you're only one who has trouble sleeping for the last three months."

Tony closed his mouth. He and Steve stared at each other for a moment. Bruce wondered how they were interpreting what they could see. On the one hand, there was Tony, who looked like a hot mess with his haggard face, overgrown goatee, ragged black t-shirt and oil-stained jeans. On the other hand, there was Steve, who when not Captain America, as currently the case, looked like a perpetually starved street urchin with dark circles around haunted blue eyes.

At last, Tony let out a long sigh and his whole body deflated.

"Fine. I admit it. I can't sleep. Nothing's been the same since New York."

Steve nodded.

"You experience things and then they're over and you still can't explain 'em," Tony went on. "Gods, aliens, other dimensions. I … the only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because Pepper moved in. Which is great. I love her, I'm lucky. But, even with her, I can't sleep. She goes to bed, I go down to my workshop. I do what I know, I tinker." He paused. "The threat is real and imminent, and I have to protect the one thing that I can't live without. My suits, they're uh…"

"Your protection," said Steve, "your shield against the world."

"They're part of me," Tony said.

"So they are. So you make yourself stronger," said Steve quietly. "So strong no one can hurt you. Or anyone else. But. It's not enough."

"Never enough," Tony whispered.

A long pause.

"Go to bed, Tony," said Steve. "I'll stand watch."

Tony stared at Steve incredulously. Then he covered his face with his palms and let out a groan that sounded more like a sob.

"You think Captain America standing watch is going to help me sleep?"

"Hey, I punched out hundreds of aliens. That counts for something, right? Besides, we also have Hulk," said Steve, grinning.

Tony groaned again.

"I'm supposed to tell you a bunch of stuff. Stark Cloud stuff. Pepper had a bunch of stuff, too."

"You can tell me later," said Steve firmly. "C'mon. My bed's upstairs. Take it."

Tony's protests grew weaker as Steve pulled him to his feet. "Doesn't your rental have an overnight guest policy?"

Steve immediately aimed a pleading look at Lucy. It was extremely potent. Lethally Potent.

"He is a refugee, not a guest," said Lucy simply. "I can take refugees."

"Thank you," said Bruce.

"Do not mention it," said Lucy. "Now, who in the name of worldwide sports is _Captain America_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got Captain America's stats from various Marvel sites. I also read a few fanfic that explored the negative consequences of his enhanced healing factor, particularly what happens when drugs simply don't work.
> 
> It occurred to me Hamburgers, as THE staple American fast food, didn't happen until the 50s. Some back research confirmed while they existed earlier, they weren't called hamburgers because of its German name. Hence, "Salisbury Steak Sandwiches".


	5. Iron Man, Part Four

Bruce, Steve, and Tony congregated in Steve's room after Bruce tried, and quickly failed, to explain Captain America to Lucy Le, whose superhero knowledge was limited to Ironman, Superman, and Batman ("Never mind. I'll just google it," she said). As Tony looked around, Bruce realized this was the first time he'd gone inside Steve's room. Until then, Steve respected Bruce's need to have alone time, and Bruce returned the favor. Now Bruce had to wonder if he'd done wrong by doing so, because the immediate impression he got from Steve's room was _barrenness_.

The walls were as bare as the day they'd moved in. The shallow built-in closet had exactly five plastic hangers holding five sets of clothes. The minimally functional desk had several sheets of printer paper, and books on information warfare and modern battle strategy. Besides the chairs they'd borrowed from Lucy, there was nothing else.

"It's like living in an empty closet. How do you do it?" Tony complained.

Steve shrugged. "I lived in smaller tents."

"That's no excuse," Tony retorted. "We're going to address this. Soon. But first things first: burgers."

Tony handed out the burgers he got from a place called "Five Guys". Steve chewed on the small piece Bruce cut out from his and waited a few minutes. Before long, Steve started to look queasy and left the room. Bruce and Tony heard retching noises through the door soon after.

"Hit a plateau on the gut front?" said Tony, looking grim.

"Yeah," Bruce said quietly. "The head guy in SHIELD medical's vetting every ingredient, and working with a small army of nutritionists to find something that works. So far, little luck."

"I suppose no one knows how to heal freezer burn this profound."

"Nope," said Bruce. "You know, sometimes I wonder if it's psychosomatic. Like, grief."

"Could be," Tony said.

They heard running water and a flushing toilet. In a few minutes, Steve returned to the room with bleach-pale skin and red-rimmed eyes.

"Sorry," Steve murmured.

Tony waved it off. "Should've gone to Elevation Burger. They serve fancy grass-fed beef patties, not the usual grease-ball corn-fed."

"I don't understand the difference," said Steve dryly. "Bruce, do you have a spare shirt? Mine are too big."

Bruce popped into his room and brought back a spare tie dye shirt splattered with eye-burning mauve. Tony beamed at it, like he loved what he saw. It made Bruce wonder about his fashion sense.

"Why don't you have stuff for small you and big you?" Tony asked as he pulled off his raggy T-shirt.

"I don't fancy shredding the small ones when I turn big," said Steve, politely looking elsewhere.

"Yeah, public indecency is no fun," Bruce agreed.

"There has to be a solution to this," Tony grumbled. "Memory fabric already exist. I might have a patent or a dozen. Hmmm..."

Tony kept talking until he stretched himself on Steve's bed, wearing Bruce's ugly mauve shirt and Steve's SHIELD-issued gray sweatpants. He waited.

"Nope, not working," Tony declared, after a three seconds. "Captain America standing watch does not miraculously induce slumber. Nope, nope, nope."

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to close your eyes," said Bruce.

"Turning the lights off might help, too," Steve added.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Gang up against me, why don't you."

Steve got up and turned off the lights. The room plunged into darkness. Only the soft bluish-purple light of Tony's arc reactor broke through it.

The three of them sat in silence for an extended moment. Then Steve started humming.

"You're off tune," said Tony. "Why are you off-tune?"

"I can't hold a tune to save my life," Steve confessed. "The serum didn't fix that."

"Why not," Tony whined. "The serum fixed your ears, didn't it?"

"Sure. And I know I'm off-tune. That doesn't mean I know how to sing on-tune," said Steve. "Like I know what colors are now, but that doesn't help me paint better."

 _Oh yeah, Steve used to be color-blind_ , Bruce thought. Then he wondered what type of color-blindness, and wistfully thought about Steve's reaction to a world full of color.

Steve resumed humming.

"You could try singing lessons," Tony mumbled. He speech was slurred.

"Mmm, I think I'll pass," said Steve. "I'm pretty sure I don't have any music talent. Bucky tried to teach me, after. But it was a clear no."

Tony chuckled. "Knew it. Not perfect. You."

Bruce heard Steve let out a little laugh as Tony's breathing evened out.

"No. Not even close," Steve agreed.

oooo

Bruce and Steve went back downstairs after Tony fell asleep as it was still early in the evening, and Steve hadn't had supper yet (Steve followed the Hobbit meal schedule, minus Hobbit food). They found Lucy at the dining table, placing a stockpot on a coaster. She also had her iPad out, and it was displaying a picture of Captain America.

"Captain America is the world's first real superhero," Lucy recited. "He went Missing In Action in 1945 when he took down the aircraft meant to bomb the entire US Eastern shore. His actions certainly saved millions of lives and ensured Allied victory. Captain Rogers had been discovered five months ago, alive, and has since been sighted in Manhattan, where he battled aliens." She looked up. "I see the resemblance between you and Captain America, Steven. I suppose there is a reason why you are not tall, big and manly all the time."

"Yes," Steve said.

"And you," said Lucy, now turning to Bruce, "You turn into the Hulk, do you not? Also, you and Steven are not related by blood."

Bruce felt his throat tighten.

"I met Steve on International waters," he muttered. "We connected. I got invested. Before I knew it, people were calling me Steve's dad."

Lucy nodded. "Is your transformation related to Steven's?"

"There's a weak, but common denominator, yes."

"I see. Thank you," said Lucy solemnly, "for you answers and your actions. My mother and father and brother were vacationing in New York city when the aliens came. They would have died had it not been for the Avengers."

Bruce felt the back of his eyes burn. Steve ducked and smiled bashfully at the floor.

"Pork and potato soup?" Lucy offered, breaking the tension.

"Yes, please," said Steve eagerly.

"What about the diet?" Bruce mumbled.

"I'm taking a break. Today was a hard day," said Steve firmly.

Lucy ladled out the soup. It was thick and creamy and had the right amount of kick. Bruce ate with gusto, but not as much as Steve, who was already working on a second helping when Bruce finished his first.

The doorbell rang.

"Who could it be?" Lucy wondered as she walked over to the front door.

A strange woman who had dark hair and eyes stood behind the threshold. Bruce knew from her pale skin and scholar's stoop that she was not a SHIELD agent.

"Who are you? How may I help you?" Lucy asked.

"I'm looking for Tony Stark," the woman said curtly.

Lucy crossed her bony arms. "Someone posted his photo on social media and did not turn off their geolocation services, I see. Facebook, Twitter or Instagram?"

"Twitter, hashtag IronWatch," the woman replied, her lips curling. "I know he's here. I need to speak to him, it's urgent."

"He's indisposed," said Bruce, as he joined Lucy at the foyer. "I can take your message."

The woman snorted. "A message won't do any good. Not when he won't remember me."

"Just try," said Bruce, feet planted firmly.

The woman glared up at Bruce. Then she sighed. "Maya Hansen."

"Wait, you're Dr. Maya Hansen?" Bruce exclaimed.

"You know about me?" said Dr. Hansen, clearly surprised.

"I read all of your published articles," Bruce said, excited. "Your research on the human brain's repair trigger was the talk in Neurology back in the late nineties and early two thousands. But my favorite was your paper on multi-viral host gene therapy. I hadn't been more inspired."

Dr. Hansen instantly warmed up. "You're a scientist."

"Nuclear physicist, sometimes geneticist, too often medical doctor," said Bruce. Then he offered his hand, "Robert Bruce Banner."

Dr. Hansen's eyebrows climbed up as she shook it. "Banner? _The_ Dr. Banner?"

"Uh, yeah," said Bruce.

Next moment, Dr. Hansen was inside the house, sitting at the dining table with Bruce and Steve, and accepting a cup of tea from Lucy.

"I never thought you'd be living here. You pretty much vanished after '08," said Dr. Hansen. Then she glanced at Lucy and Steve. "Is this your family?"

"I am his landlady," said Lucy. "Steven is his child."

Bruce noted Lucy's use of 'child'. Dr. Hansen frowned. "They're not related," she said.

"We're not," said Bruce. "Anyway, why are you looking for Tony Stark?"

Dr. Hansen wet her lips.

"I need his help. I'm developing … a therapeutic virus. I call it Extremis. Long story short, it accesses the area in the brain that governs repair, and chemically re-codes the DNA of the entire organism."

Bruce sat straighter. "Is your end goal human augmentation?"

Dr. Hansen nodded. "If it works as intended, it would revolutionize human civilization. Just think about the possibilities: Dentra-degree vitalization, disease prevention, even limb growth."

"How far are you in development?" Bruce asked.

"I have a version that's suitable for human application."

Bruce knew where this was going. "But?"

"There's a … glitch," said Dr. Hansen, grimacing. "It happens in all organisms."

"It's the immune system, isn't it," said Bruce. "When virus triggers repairs and re-codes the DNA, the immune system interprets the rapid growth as cancerous and starts attacking. The repair function considers this damage to the immune system itself and triggers more repairs."

"Which leads to a feedback loop," said Dr. Hansen in a relay. "Replication is exponential. Massive kinetic energy is generated as a byproduct. The final result is..."

"Death by heat," Bruce concluded.

"If Extremis doesn't encode greater heat resistance in the target organism," Dr. Hansen confirmed. "There is a fifty-fifty chance of the adverse scenario happening. It's literally a coin toss. I never figured out how to make Extremis add heat resistance early in the replication feedback loop."

Silence fell in the dining room after Hansen finished speaking. Then Bruce drew in a deep breath.

"Why are you seeking Tony's help? Biology isn't his forte. I can't imagine it's because, uh, you met him at a conference, like, thirteen years ago."

"He told you about that?" said Dr. Hansen sardonically. "Actually, the conference _is_ the reason why I'm looking for him. The night after I told him about Extremis, he left me this."

Hansen handed over a torn sheet of paper that had an equation scribbled on it.

"The telomerized algorithm?" Bruce asked, glancing at it.

"That's what he said," said Dr. Hansen. "I never figured out what he meant by it."

Bruce shook his head. "This wouldn't have helped you. It definitely stabilizes the size of radical polymerization reactions, but only inorganic isomers. Entirely organic telomerization hasn't been demonstrated. And the often used metal-organic catalyst, Palladium, is a heavy metal that's poisonous to humans."

Dr. Hansen's whole body drooped from the force of her sigh. "There goes that hope."

"Sorry," said Bruce, shrugging. "So who's funding your research now? It can't be Tony."

"Not Tony. We never saw each other again after that night in Switzerland," Dr. Hansen replied. "No, I joined a private think tank that showed more serious interest. Advanced Idea Mechanics. A.I.M. for short."

"Don't think I heard of them. So where does A.I.M. get their money from?"

"Mostly government grants. You know how the military was throwing money at biotech companies after 9-11 to develop treatments that would keep soldiers functional longer."

"Oh yeah," said Bruce wryly, remembering his own research at Culver University. "That money dried up in late 2008, though. How did A.I.M. stay funded?"

"Extremis was promising enough that A.I.M. scored small grants from the government, even after the financial meltdown," Dr. Hansen replied. "My boss also scrounged up money from other interested parties, like private investors and venture capitalists. A.I.M. even gained SHIELD as a sponsor two years ago when I made a version viable for primates."

Bruce felt a chill. "SHIELD you say? Are they still funding you?"

"No," said Dr. Hansen, her mouth twisting unhappily. "They stopped earlier this year. It was a huge blow."

Bruce smiled ruefully as he did the timeline math. He could bet all his PhDs that SHIELD stopped funding A.I.M. when they found out about the limitations of the Super Soldier Serum, which they probably guessed would also apply to Extremis, a close cousin of the serum from the sound of it.

"So your team has money problems," said Bruce.

"Don't we all," said Dr. Hansen bitterly.

"That's not why you're here to talk to Tony, though."

"I'd talk to his new CEO if I was after funding," said Dr. Hansen, smiling crookedly. "Thank god that's not my job."

"So what is it then?" Bruce asked. "You said you need his help, but it doesn't sound like his money or his brains are what you actually need."

"I need help, period, not Tony Stark's in particular," Dr. Hansen snapped. "In fact, now that I know you're here, I might just ask you instead."

"You need help completing the Extremis development," Bruce said.

" _Yes_!" said Dr. Hansen, in a rush. "I'm on a tight deadline. I need to finish before the next contract year starts. If I don't, A.I.M. may do something drastic!"

"Like what?" said Bruce, even though he suspected he knew the answer. "Premature human testing?"

Dr. Hansen said nothing, but her expression and silence were telling.

"You suspect someone in A.I.M. is doing that already, don't you," said Steve.

Dr. Hansen turned white. She stared at Steve for a moment, fear and apprehension writ large on her face. Then she placed a hand over her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Who?" Steve asked.

"My boss. Aldrich Killian."

"Why d'you suspect him?" Bruce asked.

"He's obsessed with Extremis. He injected himself five years ago and got the good result. Ever since then, he's been determined to make the perfect version. I don't think there's anything he won't do to get it."

Bruce thought about this for a second.

"The problem with Extremis isn't just the initial changes, is it? One of the biggest challenges of gene therapy is the short-lived nature of therapeutic DNA. The problem is twofold: the target cells have to remain functional, and the cells containing the new DNA has to be stable. That's why patients require multiple treatments. So I'm guessing Killian has to inject Extremis in himself regularly."

"Yes," said Dr. Hansen. "But he's not too worried about the regular injections. He actually prefers it."

"Get people addicted, and they will pay, whatever the price," said Steve grimly, "No, I don't think the regular injections is what's bothering Killian. It's the death by heat. He doesn't want that in the version he sells. So he'll try to tinker it away. Now, if he's using human subjects to solve that problem..."

"…He's gonna have dead bodies to hide," said Bruce, sickened.

There was a beat.

"I've got no direct proof," Dr. Hansen said quietly. "But the primates injected with Extremis and then went through the bad replication feedback loop, they exploded. The heat from the blasts was somewhere north of 3000 degrees Celsius. Anything within 12.5 yards vaporized instantly."

"So they turned into biological bombs," Bruce muttered.

"Yes. You could argue they became the _perfect_ bomb," Dr. Hansen whispered. "They leave no traces. No bomb casings. Just … heat. And dead bodies. What would happen if terrorists start using it?"

"Did you hear news of such a terrorist?" Steve asked.

"Yes. The Mandarine. The news said his bombs left no traces. Just heat and shadows. I … I think Killian is selling Extremis to the Mandarine."

"Or contracted this Mandarine character to cover the fact he's testing Extremis on human subjects," said Steve, brow stormy.

There was another long beat.

"Can you help me?" Dr. Hansen pleaded, at last.

"Sorry, I don't do human augmentation research," said Bruce flatly. "Extremis sounds highly weaponizable. As in, enhanced soldiers and private armies. I can't endorse that. And I don't think Tony would, either."

Dr. Hansen, there was no other word for it, wilted.

"But we can help you stop Killian," said Steve. "Does he suspect you? Do you have a safe place to go?"

"No, and kind-of no," Dr. Hansen said. "Killian's in Malibu, and I'm on the East Coast."

"So you have distance. That's good to know," said Steve. "We'll ask Tony if he has a safe house. In the meantime, you can stay here."

Then Steve looked at Lucy, big blue eyes dewy and lips quivering.

"You do not need to use that look on me, Steven, I do not mind housing refugees," Lucy sighed.

" _Thank you_ ," said Bruce and Steve, in sync.

Lucy sighed again. "You are welcome. But please, do not make a habit out of it."

oooo

While Lucy situated Dr. Hansen in the last spare room, Steve ensconced in Bruce's room and called Pepper for their daily videoconference. Bruce opted to join this time 'round.

"Question: do you know Aldrich Killian?" Steve asked, right after the hellos.

"Yes," said Pepper, jolting Bruce unpleasantly. "I used to work with him, and he used to ask me out all the time."

Steve turned grim. "Has he contacted you recently?"

"I just came out of a meeting with him," said Pepper.

Bruce and Steve stared at her.

"What's wrong?" Pepper asked.

"We just met Killian's lead scientist Dr. Maya Hansen. She thinks her boss is selling her therapeutic virus Extremis to terrorists," said Bruce.

Now it was Pepper's turn to stare incredulously.

"…Killian is selling Extremis to terrorists?" she asked.

"The Mandarin, to be specific," said Bruce. "For our part, we think the Mandarin is something Killian made up so he could carry out human testing. Now that meeting you had, he wanted you to partner with him?"

"He tried but failed. I didn't like Extremis' potential to be militarized. So Tony's there?"

"Yes, but he's sleeping," said Steve.

"Sleeping," Pepper repeated. "He's actually _sleeping_."

"Apparently he can if Captain America and Hulk are standing watch."

Pepper pressed her eyes. "I see. So he ran into Killian's lead scientist while visiting you two?"

"She came looking for him but found us instead. We didn't let her see him," said Bruce.

"Good call. Is she in a safe place?"

"She's with us."

"Okay. I'll take care of her when I go to DC tomorrow. Are you going to tell SHIELD?"

"No," said Bruce firmly. "They'd sponsored the research until recently. I think it's part of their super-soldier serum recreation effort."

"Of course it is," Pepper grumbled. "So you're going to handle it yourselves? Do you have a plan? Please tell me you have a plan."

"We do," said Steve without hesitation. "There are three parts: identify anyone who's been injected with Extremis, destroy existing Extremis supply and apprehend Killian. If Killian's any sort of scientist, then he would've kept track of his test subjects, and those notes should lead us to his victims. Bruce?"

"After this call, I'm going talk to Dr. Hansen," said Bruce. "Extremis probably has stringent containment and culture requirements, and I doubt A.I.M. had the money to have more than one lab. We'll find his Extremis supply there. I also need to know how the virus is administered, and get a sense of its pathology so I can start thinking about treatment to anyone unfortunate enough to have received it."

"I see. So you once find the lab, the Extremis supply, and the victims, you can pin the blame on Killian," said Pepper, "I like this plan, except one thing: how are you going to enter the lab?"

"Dr. Hansen will help me, hopefully," said Bruce. "If not, I have Steve."

"What if she betrays you?" Pepper asked.

"Let's hope not," said Bruce, grinning lopsidedly. "The Other Guy really doesn't handle betrayal well."

oooo

While Steve hashed out details or discussed whatever else Pepper wanted to talk about, Bruce went to have a talk with Hansen as promised.

"What happened?" said Dr. Hansen, when Bruce asked how things came to this. "Fun fact; before he built rockets for the Nazis, the idealistic Werner von Braun dreamed of space travel. He star gazed. Do you know what he said when the first V2 hit London? The rocket performed perfectly, it just landed on the wrong planet. See, we all begin wide-eyed, pure science. And then the ego steps in, the obsession. And you look up, you're a long way from shore."

"I know that feeling," said Bruce, "Look, you shouldn't be too hard on yourself. I mean, you gave you research to a think tank."

"Yeah, but Killian built that Think Tank on military contracts," said Dr. Hansen bitterly.

"And my gamma-ray research was funded by the same," said Bruce. "Don't judge yourself too harshly."

Dr. Hansen smiled. "Thank you, Banner. I really appreciate that."

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't know what I'll do without Extremis," Dr. Hansen said, leaning towards Bruce as she spoke quietly. "It's my life work. It's all I've been doing for the last thirteen years."

"You can always start fresh," said Bruce. "That's what I did, more or less. Thing is, you're bigger than your work. Your work wouldn't exist without you, but not vice versa. You'll come up with something, you're brilliant enough."

Hansen leaned closer. "You really think so?"

"Uh, sure," said Bruce, feeling uncomfortable now.

Hansen was now so close Bruce could feel her breath. Rather belatedly, Bruce realized she was quite attractive.

"Can I join your new thing?" she asked breathlessly.

Bruce broke out the trance.

"Sorry," he said, moving away. "I work for Tony, and something tells me you're not into that. Plus, I've got a kid."

Hansen huffed. "You're no fun."

"So I've been told," said Bruce, shrugging. "Now tell me more about your A.I.M. lab."

"The main lab is in Reston Virginia, but we have a satellite location in Sumerduck. I have access to both."

"Is the Extremis stored in the Reston location?"

"Yes, but we conducted our trials in Sumerduck."

"Because of the explosions, yeah? How do your neighbors not notice them?" Bruce asked.

"Well, between the two police officers shooting .50 Cals for practice, their crazy neighbors blowing a fog horn whenever they do, plus the owners of the meat farm we get our animals from shooting fireworks whenever they feel like it, no one even blinks."

Bruce groaned. "Sounds like an awesome redneck town."

"Oh, you have no idea," Dr. Hansen grinned.

oooo

Tony slept through the night, miraculously enough, and woke up at the same a$$-o-clock in the morning as Bruce and Steve. He was also about as groggy and disoriented as Bruce without caffeine, and thus went searching for some.

"Bless you, my dear woman," Tony mumbled when Lucy pointed out the pot of coffee brewing in the kitchen. He then took the carafe and drank straight from it, the selfish bastard, and let out a contented sigh after drinking half the pot. "All the applause, Bruce's landlady, you buy the good stuff."

"I got it from Costco."

"I stand corrected."

"Bruce, take the pot away from him."

Bruce got his own coffee when Lucy pulled out a ceramic coffee dripper and brewed him and Steve individual servings. Not for the first time, Bruce marveled at how they lucked out on their rental.

A sense of peace and serenity seemed to envelop Bruce as the four of them sat quietly at the dining table, eating, reading or drinking coffee. They would've looked completely normal if it weren't for the Iron Man suit sitting on a couch, recharging.

"This is nice," Tony remarked, as he nursed the carafe. "We should totally think about having places like these as safe houses. The location here is pretty good. Hey, Bruce's landlady, do you do long-term leases?"

"My name is Lucy," said Lucy. "And no, I have not thought to."

"Well, you should. What are your monthly rates? Can I make suggestions for the decor? What about new furniture? C'mon, talk to me."

Bruce smiled indulgently as Tony and Lucy haggled over terms, rates and decor. There was something warming about Tony tacitly assuming Bruce and Steve were part of his plans.

But of course, the moment was too good to last. Just as Tony started snapping pictures of Lucy's home (so an interior designer could make adjustments, presumably), Dr. Hansen came downstairs. Tony stared at her like a deer cornered by a bear.

"Please don't tell me that there is a twelve-year-old kid waiting in the car that I've never met," Tony blurted.

"He's thirteen, and no, I came here to ask for help," said Dr. Hansen.

"What … What for? Why now?" Tony asked, eyes bulging.

"Don't worry, I don't need yours, the Banners are better," Dr. Hansen said.

" _Banners_ …? No. Nonononono, that can't be, I'm still working on it," Tony babbled.

Steve frowned. "You're working on what?"

"Shut your ears, Steve, it's supposed to be a surprise," Tony muttered. "What time is it? Pepper's flying into DCA at noon, I'm supposed to meet her. She and I are in a committed relationship, by the way, so if you're trying to get me alone, Maya, I can't."

"Like I said, I don't need you, I have Dr. Banner," said Dr. Hansen loftily. "He has the right background and actually wants to help. His kid is no slouch either. I bet he's smarter than you."

Now Tony looked mortally offended.

"What the hell, Hansen. What can Steve do that I can't?"

Bruce gave a brief summary of last night's talk, his separate talk with Dr. Hansen, and their plans.

"You know I can help, just ask," said Tony mutinously. "I got a ton of new tech, I got a prehensile, I got a … I got a new bomb disposal. Catches explosions mid-air. I can even remote-control the Mark 42 suit."

"All we want to do is get into the lab, destroy the Extremis supply, get any and all info on test subjects and leave quietly," said Steve. "The keyword here is _quiet_. Sorry, Tony, but your suits are really not."

"Unless you have one that has retro reflective panels that make it invisible," said Bruce.

"That's actually a good idea. Maybe I'll build one," said Tony. "So what are you gonna do if you meet armed resistance?"

Bruce and Steve just looked at him.

"Don't you have to go to work?" said Tony, backtracking.

"We'll call in sick."

"What's your excuse?"

"Tony Stark fed me a hamburger, it disagreed with me violently, and now I'm throwing up," said Steve.

"Which is actually true, if you ex-nay timestamps," said Bruce. "I'll call Ajith."

Then Bruce did just that; he told Dr. Ajith Fernando Steve had an unfortunate encounter with a hamburger, courtesy of Tony Stark, therefore can't report to the Triskelion today … yes, he'll make sure Steve stays hydrated, and no, he didn't think Steve will need an IV. In the meantime, Steve went upstairs to retrieve the Captain America shield and whatever battle uniform appropriate for the occasion (SHIELD issued many; Steve didn't want them but got tired of protesting).

"Done," said Bruce, after ending the call. At that same moment, Steve came back down, dressed in navy blue.

"I'm still going," said Tony stubbornly. "I can provide air support, damn it, and you're gonna need firepower if or when you meet Extremis-enhanced human beings who may or may not be part of Killian's private army."

"You may want to take up his offer," said Dr. Hansen. "The subjects who accepted Extremis are extremely strong, fast, and can breathe fire."

Bruce's brain latched onto Hansen's use of 'who'. It troubled him.

Steve sighed. "Fine. Tell Pepper what you're going, or she'll worry."

"Oh, I will, Captain Stars, Spangles, and Sass. I will," Tony griped. "So where are we going?"

"First, Reston. Then, Sumerduck."

Tony snapped his glance at his suit. It was still recharging.

"Let me know as soon as he's awake, Lucy, keep a window open!" Tony shouted.

"Okay!" Lucy shouted back from the kitchen. Then she came out holding four lunch bags. Bruce peered into his and found curried chicken and BLT sandwiches.

"I want tuna melt. Can I have tuna melt?" asked Tony as he stared into his bag.

"All my tuna are kimchi flavored," said Lucy.

"Yeech, never mind. This is fine. Totally fine," said Tony, making a face. Then he pulled out a phone and made a call. Tony waited impatiently for several beats until:

"Pepper it's me," said Tony. "I've got a lot of apologies to make and not a lot of time. So first off, I'm so sorry I ignored you. That was selfish and stupid and after today, it won't happen again. Also, the rabbit's too big. Done. Sorry. And I'm sorry in advance because … I can't make it to Reagan. I need to find this virus. You gotta stay safe. That's all I know. I signed a long-term lease with Bruce's landlady."

He ended the call. Bruce wondered if Pepper would make sense of the disjointed words Tony just spewed out, and hoped against hope she would stay out of harm's way.

"Why don't you just go to her?" said Hansen, arms crossed. "You're just a man in a can, but without the special can."

"Why are you so mean to me, Maya?" Tony complained. Then he made a second call.

"Hey Honey Bunches and Rhodes, I know you're busy being War Machine … ah, excuse me, _Iron Patriot_ , but there's something you should know: the Mandarin is just a stooge to cover an evil mad scientist's effort to perfect a version of super-soldier serum. Look for a guy named Aldrich Killian. Okay, bye."

Tony put his phone away. "There. All done."

"You called Colonel James Rhodes?" Bruce asked as they rushed out of the house.

"Mmhmm," said Tony. "He's in charge of guarding the President and America from the Mandarin. Pentagon painted his suit red, white and blue, and rechristened it Iron Patriot to make a statement to that effect."

"I saw it. It was terrible."

"I know, right?" Tony exclaimed.

"C'mon, fellas, we need to go!" said Steve, by Hansen's car. Then Steve waved. "Bye, Lucy! Thank you for the sandwiches!"

"Have fun storming the lab!" Lucy called out.

oooo

The ride to Reston shockingly smooth, all things considered. The traffic wasn't bad, and Hansen got them inside the lab without any trouble. The research notes were downloaded for future study. The containers of Extremis kept in storage was swiftly located and disposed of. Then Hansen showed Bruce the injector used to administer Extremis, and the suspicion he'd been harboring since early morning started to crystallize.

"This is human grade," Bruce said.

"We got a donation," replied Hansen, not looking.

"It's customized," said Tony, frowning. Then he looked at Hansen. "Maya, are you helping Killian? Please tell me you're not. You have ideals. You have moral psychology. You have … a soul. I remember that."

Hansen said nothing. Suddenly, someone jumped behind Steve. Tony tried to shoot him, but the man hit him over the head, knocking him out. Then the man held a gun to Steve's head.

"No sudden moves, Dr. Banner," said the man, a hand around Steve's throat.

Bruce swallowed. Steve could take the guy down in a microsecond, so he wasn't worried. But Steve's head was shaking minutely, as though signaling Bruce to cooperate.

"Who are you?" Bruce said, raising his palms.

"No one you need to know," said the man. "You're coming with us."

"Why? What do you want?"

"You're gonna help me fix Extremis," said Hansen.

"I can't do that!" said Bruce, anger rising.

"Oh, you will, or your kid's gonna die without you trying," said the man, as he pressed the muzzle of his gun harder against Steve's temple.

"Listen, Extremis is probably as stable as it's ever going to get!" Bruce shouted. "It's doing exactly what you designed it to do! The problem isn't with your virus, Hansen! It's-"

And that moment, Bruce realized Steve's plan.

"-it's your test subjects," said Bruce.

Hansen frowned. "The subjects?"

"The glitch has to do with the immune system, right?" said Bruce in rush. "A healthy one is too ready to fight the Extremis, and that escalates the replication feedback loop too quickly. So if you wanna sell Extremis, then you gotta screen your buyers to make sure they're sick enough - weak enough - to receive it. If you don't believe me, then give me your successful subjects' medical history. Or better yet, let me see them. I can point out their common denominators."

Bruce watched as Hansen's thoughts turned inward. Their assailant kept his gun aimed at Steve but switched his glance back and forth between Hansen and Bruce. Meanwhile, Bruce prayed that Hansen would take his latter suggestion and bring Killian's private army here so Steve could take them all out.

"Savin, call Killian. Tell him to bring his army here," said Hansen, at length, making Bruce feel giddy.

"You sure?" asked Savin.

"Perfectly. What can Banner do against them, anyway?"

Savin snorted. "You call him. You have his number."

Hansen pursed her lips but nevertheless did so.

They waited perhaps ten minutes. Then a group of physically perfect people came in and led Bruce and Steve to a compound made of warehouses at gunpoint. One of them stayed behind to haul the still unconscious Tony. When she rejoined the rest of the group, she zip-tied Tony to a metal bed frame (where did they even get it?). Savin had Steve under personal gunpoint throughout.

They waited another ten minutes. Tony woke up at that point and tried to talk to Hansen. But before he could make any kind of leeway, a blond, handsome and well-built man dressed in a business suit walked in dramatically, a small entourage of people trailing his wake.

"Dr. Banner, Tony Stark, it's good to meet you. I'm Aldrich Killian," said the blond man.

"Hi," said Bruce, as he studied Killian's private army. He couldn't say he could identify their previous occupations before joining A.I.M., but he did note the group heavily leaned towards ladies.

"Maya says you can fix Extremis, Banner," Killian said.

"I said you _can't_ ," said Bruce. "All I can do is tell you on who it will work."

"Same difference," said Killian, shrugging.

"You can let them go," said Hansen, nodding at Tony and Steve. "Banner's the only one who can help. The rest are useless."

"Oh, don't say that," said Killian, giving Hansen a reproachful look. "Nothing's useless, not really. I learned that thirteen years ago, in Switzerland. Remember that day, Tony? You said you'd meet me on the rooftop, right? Well, for the first twenty minutes, I actually thought you'd show up. And the next hour, I … well I considered taking that one step shortcut to the lobby if you know what I mean."

"Honestly, I'm trying to figure out what the point of this is," said Tony, as he struggled against the zip-ties that held him.

"The point is," Killian continued, "I learned two valuable lessons that day. As I looked out over that city, nobody knew I was there, nobody could see me, no one was even looking. I had a thought that would guide me for years to come. Anonymity, Tony. Thanks to you, it's been my mantra ever since. You simply rule from behind the scenes. Because the second you give evil a face, a Bin Laden, a Gaddafi, the Mandarin, you hand the people a target."

"So you hired someone to play the public face of the Mandarin while you stay in the shadows," said Steve.

Killian raised an eyebrow.

"Your kid has guts, Banner, I must say," said Killian. "But yes. Trevor Slatterly. He's my public face. I know he's a little over the top sometimes. It's not entirely my fault, he has a tendency … he's a stage actor. They say his Lear was the toast of Croydon, wherever that is. Anyway, the point is, ever since that big dude with the hammer fell out of the sky, subtlety kinda had its day."

"Still trying to understand the point, here," Tony grumbled.

"The second lesson," said Killian, "is that you can accomplish a lot when you're desperate. That's the greatest gift you gave me, Tony: Desperation. And now I'm going to impart that gift to Dr. Banner."

He nodded at Savin, who switched the gun on Steve's temple to an Extremis injector. Bruce felt his stomach drop.

" _No_ ," he whispered.

"You…!" Tony snarled.

Steve let out a long breath. "Don't."

"Let him go," said Hansen abruptly.

All eyes turned to Hansen. Bruce immediately noticed the injector she had pointing at herself.

"Maya…" said Killian.

"I said let him go!" Hansen shouted, her face white but determined.

"What are you doing?" Killian demanded.

"1200cc's, a dose half of this size, I'm dead," said Hansen fiercely.

"It's times like these my temper is tested somewhat," Killian grumbled. "Maya, give me the injector."

"If I die, Killian, what happens to your soldiers?" said Hansen. "What happens to your product?"

"We're not doing this, okay?" said Killian in a placating tone.

"What happens to you?" Hansen shouted. "What happens if you go too hot?!"

Killian paused. For a moment, Bruce believed he was going to back down.

Then Killian shot Hansen without warning.

For the next second or eternity, Bruce just stared at Maya Hansen's blank eyes, empty of the life it once held. Then his ears started to ring ominously.

"The good news is, a high-level position has just been vacated," Killian said, as he lowered his gun.

"You're a maniac," Tony said, as though from a distance.

"No, I'm a visionary," Killian replied.

Bruce's vision was fogging. He made no effort to stop it. The Other Guy wouldn't hurt Tony or Steve. As long as they were okay, he didn't care.

"Son, you did a very stupid thing," said Steve.

Then everything went black.

oooo

Bruce came to, feeling as cold and exhausted as he usually did after a Hulk-out. Every pore on his body felt chilly - all, that is, except his hand. He blinked open his eyes and saw Captain America, more heartbreakingly beautiful looking than usual.

" _Steve_ ," said Bruce, relieved.

"There you are," said Steve, clutching Bruce's hand.

Bruce let out a long sigh. "Did I kill anyone?"

"No," said an unfamiliar voice.

A dark man crouched next to Steve. Behind the two, Bruce could see Tony standing close by and eating a sandwich. All three of them looked battered, bloody and a bit singed. Bruce didn't see a pile of groaning and/or unconscious people.

"Colonel Rhodes?" said Bruce.

"That's me," said the strange man. "Don't worry, we got everyone."

"Everyone except your suit," said Tony.

Bruce frowned, confused.

"The next phase of Killian's plans," Tony explained, "Infiltrate War Machine and program it to kill and/or kidnap the President, so Vice President Rodriguez would have the job and become the Mandarin's political patron. All this to ensure there will always be supply and demand for war, therefore super soldiers."

"That's insane."

"Totally." Tony nodded. "When Steve said unworthy subjects of the super-soldier serum go bug-f#*@ insane, he wasn't joking. Speaking of which, do you think you're going to be okay?"

"No, I'm never going to be sure if I'm okay," said Steve grimly. "Tony, if I ever start acting like Killian, you have my blessing to shoot me in the neck."

Steve pointed the jugular. The gesture made Tony look like he wanted to cry or punch something. Bruce, too, since he was forced to contemplate if Steve had to take down his old serum teammates if or when they went batsh!t crazy.

"We need to save the President," said Steve, while pulling out spare clothes from a backpack and handing them to Bruce. "Tony, Colonel, let's go. Bruce, you might want to sit out this one."

"Yeah, I'm out. I don't fancy going somewhere where there's a lot of military people," said Bruce, as he shrugged on a shirt.

"How are we gonna do that? We've got no transport," said Rhodes.

"I borrowed a car," said Steve, waving at a vehicle standing by with its engine idling.

"Where did Captain America learn how to hotwire a car?" said Tony, incredulous.

Steve smirked. "Nazi Germany."

"F@#$, he really is Captain America," Rhodes muttered.

"What, like the shield and speed weren't evidence enough? I'm disappointed in you, Rudy," said Tony.

"Shut up, Tones."

Steve strapped on the shield while Rhodes and Tony bickered. Then Steve stooped down and hugged Bruce.

"I'll be back, Da," came the tight whisper.

Then Steve stood and ran off.

oooo

Bruce used Uber to taxi back home. As though on cue, Nick Fury called him as soon as he stepped on the driveway.

"Dr. Banner, why is Captain Rogers with President Ellis?"

"I…" Bruce began, thinking for an excuse, but quickly giving up, "… am going to have to let Tony explain this, because I sure as hell can't."

Fury groaned. " _Stark_ ," he growled like the name was a curse. Then he hung up without saying another word.

Bruce went inside and waited. An hour passed. Eventually Tony returned to Rockville with Pepper in tow.

"Brucie Bear," Tony crooned.

"Where is Steve?" Bruce demanded.

"I have good news," Tony parried.

"If you say at least the President is alive, I'm going to hit you."

"Ah, no, though it is related," Tony said. "Thing is, I may have dropped the fact Steve still doesn't have his documentation when Ellis thanked Rhodey and Steve for saving his life."

"Oh. _Ohhhh_."

"Yep," said Tony, grinning. "Not exactly how I planned things, but it still works. Ellis ordered the Army and SHIELD to hand everything over in the next 2 hours. It was sweet."

"It is. So Steve's with Ellis?"

"Rhodey's with him, too," said Tony.

"Good," Bruce sighed. "So what exactly were you two planning?"

Tony and Pepper shared a grin.

"Do you know what Steve and Pepper had been up to?" asked Tony.

"No."

"You need to be more nosey, especially if you're serious about the whole dad business," Tony said.

Bruce groaned.

"Steve's been helping me make SI's green energy division profitable," Pepper said. "For immediate profit, we decided to target the Helicarriers. Those things burn through a lot of fuel, and SHIELD wastes hours- sometimes days- to replenish. There are also fire hazards associated with gasoline, as Loki demonstrated. Our solution: multiple Stark Reactors, plus backup units for emergencies. The math works out. Even at max capacity, SHIELD will recuperate the upfront cost in six months."

Bruce remembered the many Q&A sessions Steve had with SHIELD IT. Who would've thought Steve had ulterior motives for those?

"Wouldn't they hesitate to install what's essentially a nuclear reactor?" Bruce asked.

"They would've four months ago, but we've demonstrated Stark Reactors are capable of withstanding heavy artillery, even those delivered by aliens," said Pepper confidently. "We can sell this. I'm sure of it."

Bruce shrugged. "Okay. Anything else?"

"Stark Cloud," said Tony simply.

"What's that?"

"Essentially a Cloud service powered by Stark Reactors and maintained by Tony's A.I.s," said Pepper.

"How is that gonna make you money? And how is Stark Reactor powered Cloud service any different from other Cloud services?" Bruce asked.

"First off, it _already_ made us money," Pepper said. "SHIELD snapped up seven million dollars worth of computing space the moment it became available."

" _Seriously_?" said Bruce.

"As serious as our national budget," said Tony, grinning. "Stark Cloud's Infrastructure as a Service is as good as Amazon Web Services, which is the leader of the pack. But our real niche is public sector IT projects. There are high barriers to entry to get a Cloud service certified for classified information. Our hybrid Cloud data centers are already Fed-RAMP certified, and we're in the process of switching their power source to green energy. Long story short, we cut down costs with Stark Reactors, IT contractors cut down their own costs with Stark Cloud, we make money selling the services of my badass A.I.s, and everyone is happy."

"In theory. Well, I hope it works out," Bruce shook his head. "How does Steve come up with stuff like this?"

Pepper shrugged. "I guess this is why Steve is one of the best tacticians of the 20th century. They seriously make officers study his battle plans and tactics. Rhodey said so. And I read plenty business cases of military generals who do extremely well in a business context. Clearly, their skills translate."

"I guess. So what does this have to do with making Steve legal?" Bruce asked.

"Everything," said Tony. "See, businesses can sponsor foreign nationals or refugees to employ them. You just have to prove to your board, if you have one, that they're worth the expense."

Bruce felt floored. "Oh."

"Yep," said Tony. "Pep's plan was to make Steve run some successful projects and then sponsor him as a stateless refugee. Our board should have no problem with the legal fees since he brings profit."

Bruce didn't know what to say.

"It's not necessary now, at least I hope," said Pepper. "But I think it'll be good for Steve to have something other than SHIELD to fall back to. He doesn't have to stay with Stark Industries. I'm going to make sure the bonus he gets for Stark Cloud will be enough to let him do whatever he wants."

"Told you money brings options, Brucie Babe," said Tony, looking adoringly at Pepper for a moment before turning disturbingly somber. "Besides, SHIELD's purchases are troubling me. I mean, why do they need so much computing power? And not just any kind of computing power, but the kind that lets you data mine several hundred Petabytes worth of data. Not even marketing firms use this much, and they go through demographics and consumer purchase data on a global scale. So what the hell are they looking for? And this without putting any kind of thought to them trying to recreate the super soldier serum."

"It can't be a good sign when a military-ish organization wants super soldiers," agreed Bruce.

"Hear, hear," said Pepper. "You know, I think I understand why you don't want to give up the suits, Tony. What I am gonna complain about now?"

"Well, it's me. I'll think of somethin'," said Tony. "So what d'you think of this place? Cute, isn't it?"

"Sure," said Pepper, making a show of looking around and smile at the paintings. "Now don't distract me, Tony. Just because I get your suit obsession doesn't mean I'm letting you have all your distractions."

"Uh … about that," said Tony shiftily. "We can talk about it over dinner. Right? _Right?_ "

oooo

Colonel Rhodes and Steve returned another hour later. Rhodes looked absolutely gobsmacked as Skinny-Steve left the car he was driving.

" _Tones_ ," he growled, pointing at Steve.

"I can explain," said Tony.

"Oh yeah? Well you better, because I'm not gonna tell the President Captain America shrinks into a twelve-year-old girl."

Steve ignored the two and bounded over to Bruce, waving a manila envelope.

"I'm home!"

Bruce grinned.

"Welcome home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends Iron Man 3 storyline. There should be an interlude before I cover the Thor: Dark World and Captain America: The Winter Soldier plotline ;)


	6. Thor: the Dark World, Part 1

Bruce stood still as he tried to take in his surroundings. There were numerous aliens, composed of at least three different species, milling about, inflicting destruction upon the old buildings of Greenwich. A sense of deja vu overtook him as he watched Steve punch out aliens while ordering the London law enforcement to evacuate civilians. In a distance, one could see Thor battling another alien in the sky. Said sky had a very large portal open, and through it, one could see several planets/worlds. To top the absurdity of it all, he was holding a long pole, courtesy of Eric Selvig, which was supposed to help resolve the situation.

“Take a nice vacation, they said,” Bruce grumbled. “It should be relaxing, they said.”

Then he sighed. It sounded like such a good idea at the time…

oooo

Bruce supposed things were set into motion the afternoon when the Extremis business wrapped up. Fury, unsurprisingly, sent a couple of SHIELD agents to escort Steve and Bruce to the Triskelion. Tony insisted on joining, and neither agent could stop him. In the next hour, Bruce, Steve and Tony found themselves in Director Fury’s office. Fury looked absolutely irate, especially when compared to Agents Hill and Sitwell, both who looked impassive.

“Dr. Banner said you were ill, Rogers,” Fury began.

“That’s absolutely true,” Tony replied. “But you know that Nick. You verified this already. I know you did.”

A vein on Fury’s temple bulged. “So how did things end like this!?”

“Pure accident,” Tony said. “I have sleeping problems, see, so Steve offered me his place for some shut-eye because Cap’s nice like that, but then my ex-girlfriend and Killian, both who had grudges against me, by the way, found my location on Twitter, decided to kidnap the most vulnerable looking person in the house to threaten me and picked Steve for their sins. The hamburger just exacerbated things.”

Bruce watched Fury’s face muscles twitch. It was a fascinating study.

“And you just let them take you,” said Fury, now back to Steve. Apparently, he couldn’t find fault in Tony’s truthful-but-edited-to-be-misleading explanation of events, or if he did find fault, chose not to mention them.

“They weren’t good people, they also mentioned something that sounded a lot like Dr. Erskine’s serum, so I decided to investigate,” Steve said.

“Tactically, that was a good move,” said Agent Hill.

Fury glared at Hill like she’d betrayed him.

“Was it necessary to mention personal matters to the President?” Fury demanded.

“No, sir,” said Steve mildly. “I had no intention to. I was as surprised at Tony’s actions as you were.”

Tony giggled shamelessly. Fury’s glare intensified.

“You have no concept of the media storm you generated, do you?” growled Fury.

“Uh, no?” said Steve, eyebrows set at an obtuse angle. One couldn’t look more earnest, all-American, aww-shucks than this, Bruce thought.

“#illegalcap and #makecaplegal are trending, Commander,” said Agent Sitwell helpfully.

Bruce stood corrected. Steve’s sheepish smile was even more earnest, all-American and aww-shucks.

“I don’t understand what that means,” Steve said.

Tony leaned into Bruce’s ear and whispered: “ _Troll_.” Bruce grinned in return.

There was a moment of silence while Director Fury quietly smouldered  in his seat.

“Listen, Rogers,” Fury growled, at last, “Captain America is a public identity. It’s been around longer than you, your chronological age notwithstanding. As long as you have the shield, you’re it. Do you think an intelligence agency like SHIELD enjoys dealing with public entities?”

Steve just looked at Fury. “Sir?”

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’re smarter than that,” snapped Fury. “It’s damn inconvenient. I prefer my agents competent, professional and unknown. You, Rogers, as Captain America are anything but on the last criteria. So why do you think I bother?”

Steve didn’t reply. So Tony answered for everyone:

“Commander Rogers.”

Fury nodded once. “As far as I and World Security Council are concerned, Commander Rogers is a far better asset than Captain America. But only if you keep the two separate.”

“They’re not separate,” Tony pointed out.

“There are significant enough differences between the two that make them separate,” Fury retorted. “Even if there weren’t, Commander Rogers isn’t the type to enjoy living in the spotlight like you, Mr. Stark.”

Steve smiled ruefully in agreement.

“This is my first and final warning,” Fury growled. “Captain America is _not_ Commander Rogers. You make sure it stays that way.”

“Understood,” said Steve. “Only one problem: Commander Rogers does not exist, nor does Steve Rogers.”

“Damn right, they don’t,” said Fury, lips curling. “It took me four months to fix that mistake.”

He then waved at Agent Hill, who gave Steve a thick folder.

“Your papers,” said Agent Hill. “We created your school records to favor your aspirations to study computer science. Your birth certificate, passport, and medical records are based on information we had on who you were before you joined the Sentinels of Freedom… ” (Steve cringed), “…a.k.a. Invaders. Your military records are based on your actual army career, extrapolated to the contemporary equivalent.”

Steve opened the folder and studied the contents. In a few seconds, Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“How’d you make me a Major?”

“That was your last rank,” said Agent Hill, as though that explained things. Bruce could tell from the grim set of Steve’s mouth and Tony’s scowl that it really didn’t. Bruce, on his part, was mildly surprised to learn Steve had been promoted back in WWII.

Steve looked down at the folder again. “Who gave you all this info?”

“Former Director Carter,” said Agent Hill.

“She didn’t give you photos?”

“None were available. So we used the most current photo of you at optimal mode,” Agent Hill said.

Steve heaved a sigh and closed the folder. “Thanks, I think. So what now?”

“Go out, celebrate, see the world,” said Fury.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You’re letting me go?”

“I’m giving you three months medical leave,” said Fury. “Someone like you should not be having digestive problems for this long, yet here we are. Use the time recover.”

“I don’t remember signing up,” Steve muttered.

“You did when you agreed to join the Avengers,” said Fury, smirking in an infuriating way.

“I thought slavery was illegal,” Tony said.

“We compensate our operatives and consultants, as you well know,” Fury said. “Now being either doesn’t mean you’re obliged to put all your chips with SHIELD. By all means, continue to try different things. Go to school. Do internships. See, I like the initiatives you’re taking, Rogers, and I’m encouraging it.”

Steve said nothing.

“That is all. You’re dismissed,” said Fury.

The three of them left without further ado. They said nothing until they were returned to Lucy’s house and settled around her dining table once more. Lucy distributed tea, coffee, and pastries, and informed them Pepper had left to take care of SI business.

“Every time I go through a debriefing with Nick, I feel used and lied to,” Tony grumbled, after eating three elephant ears in quick succession.

“Probably because we _are_ being used and lied to,” Bruce sighed, as he cradled his teacup.

Tony pouted. “This is worse than being a prostitute. At least they get paid for this sort of sh!t.”

“Language,” said Lucy disapprovingly.

“C’mon, Lucy, we’re all adult here,” Tony whined.

“If you honestly think so, you are a very foolish man,” Lucy said.

Tony eyeballed Lucy for a second and then grunted.

“Fine. Sorry. Now back to Fury: he induces paranoia because: a) the man lies for a living, b) he runs the world's greatest covert security network, and therefore c) he can be listening to our conversation right now, even as we speak.”

“Ohmygod, is he?” Bruce cried.

“Negatory. I swept this place and fifty meters beyond for any and all bugs, and nothing,” said Tony.

Steve sighed. “One day I’m going to break down and quote Patrick Henry at him: _Give me liberty or give me death_.”

Bruce chuckled bleakly. “And we all know which one he’ll give you.”

There was a beat.

“I miss Coulson,” Tony complained. “He wasn’t as big of a—” Lucy glared, “—Richard the Third.”

“Was he?” said Bruce. “I never got to talk to him. I guess you knew him longer.”

“In a manner of speaking. Word was Agent Phil was Fury’s right-hand man,” Tony said.

“I guess without Agent Coulson Nick doesn’t have a sanity check,” said Steve somberly.

“Yeah. But don’t you dare feel sorry for him, I refuse to on principle,” griped Tony.

There was another beat. Tony was particularly twitchy.

“I wanna do something,” Tony muttered, at last. “Something awesome. I’m a genius and billionaire. I don’t have to deal with SHIELD if I don’t want to. I can even start my own agency if I want. You know what,” he sat straighter, “that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

“You want to start your own Intelligence Agency?” Bruce asked.

“Why should I do that?” Tony scoffed. “Every computer network in the world is mine for the taking. Well, for JARVIS’ to take, but that’s basically the same thing. Yet another intelligence agency isn’t what we need. No, we want to be free to be superheroes.”

“So you wanna form a superhero team?” Bruce asked. “Like Justice League?”

“Yeah, but more awesome,” said Tony.

Steve turned thoughtful. “What would the purpose be? Justice League had a villain-of-the-week to fight. Our world isn’t like that. Unless you want to fight crime, too.”

“Not interested,” said Tony dismissively. “The Avengers Initiative’s purpose is good enough. Remember that?”

“Bring together a group of remarkable people and let them fight the battles we never could when we need them to,” said Steve, as though reciting someone. “The caveat, of course, is: _when we need them to_. ‘We’ being SHIELD.”

“And that’s where we part ways,” said Tony decisively. “We don’t fight because SHIELD says so. They can advise us, tell us what they know, but we make the final call.”

Steve grinned. “I like that. Sign me up.”

“Yay, I get Captain America,” Tony crowed. “What about you, Bruce?”

“I … am not sure,” said Bruce. “If you start a – a what, a defense agency? Wouldn’t it be like building a private army?”

“Battles aren’t about brute strength,” said Steve. “The unit I led after Azzano, the Howling Commandos, was a seven-person team. We still managed to wipe out all of the Hydra strongholds.”

“No guarantee the fight will be about firepower, either,” said Tony. “Information warfare, giant EMT device that knocks out all major grids—”

“—Alien virus pandemic,” Steve added.

Bruce winced. “You read _The Hot Zone_ , didn’t you?”

“The point is,” said Tony, pointing a finger for emphasis, “I’m not going to build a private army because I don’t have to and I don’t want to. I draw a line against the militarization of my team. Nope, not gonna happen. Not on my watch. Now back to alien virus pandemics. Responding to that kind of threat requires R&D. SHIELD has their own R&D team, sure, but I can do better than all of them. Hell, given the chance, you can do better than me, Bruce. Point is, we’re all geniuses. Genii. We can handle what the world can throw at us.”

Bruce smiled. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. I’m totally calling it,” said Tony. “Speaking of things being thrown at, we may end up having to do more traditional superhero-ing whether we want to or not. The whole Thor and Loki thing gave people an excuse to go crazy about evil. Killian, case in point.”

“Cultural permission,” said Bruce grimly.

“Pattern setting,” said Tony, nodding. “School shootings and roadside bombings, they’re all based on a precedent that became a pattern.”

“Sounds like rules to follow if you want to be a rebel,” said Steve sardonically. “Which is rather ironic. But I suppose this gives us an idea how angry people will choose to act from now on.”

“Yep,” said Tony. “I foresee a lot of supervillains and monologues in the future.”

“And here I thought we’d just do some old-fashioned good,” Bruce grumbled.

“There will be opportunities for that, Bruce, don’t worry,” said Steve encouragingly, “And Tony, your ideas are all well and good, but you should tell Pepper first.”

“Don't tell me things I don't already know, Spangles,” Tony shot back. His tone was casual, but he still looked apprehensive at the prospect.

Steve smirked. “And don’t be surprised if she says no.”

“I _know_!” Tony snapped.

Nevertheless, Tony looked thoroughly put-out when he returned from his dinner with Pepper. Moreover, the two were still arguing.

“It’s still no, Tony,” said Pepper.

“ _But I want it!_ ” Tony whined.

“Not now, Tony,” said Pepper, after letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Not when you’ve decided to take out the arc reactor in your chest.”

“Oh, you’re gonna?” said Steve, surprised.

“Yes, as a sign of maturity and getting over his suit obsession,” Pepper said.

“You’ll have to do a lot of physical therapy afterwards,” Bruce pointed out. “We’re talking about heart reconstruction, here. You won’t be able to avoid it even if you cheat.”

“You have no idea what I have in mind, Banner,” Tony retorted.

“Oh, I have a very good idea,” Bruce retorted back.

“Either way, Tony, you shouldn’t start anything big until you’re done healing,” Pepper said firmly. “Same goes to you, too, Steve. Agent Maria Hill told me you’re on medical leave. I know you’ve been neglecting your health, and don’t tell me otherwise. So focus on improving your GI tract for the next three months.”

“As your doctor, I endorse the notion,” said Bruce.

Steve glowered at him. “ _Traitor_.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetie, you have more sense than Tony,” Pepper chided. “By the way, Steve, I had a word with Rhodey. He going to help you get set up with the VA.”

“VA?” Steve repeated curiously.

“Veteran Affairs,” said Pepper, looking a bit distressed.

“I know that,” said Steve, “I just … I thought you have to be out to sign up.”

“That’s not always the case,” Pepper said. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie, we’ll figure it out.”

Steve grinned lopsidedly. “Okay.”

The four of them moved base to Tony’s River Road mansion (“That is NOT a house,” Steve said) to further discuss their plans for the next three months. Colonel Rhodes joined them there and helped them figure out pesky details such as whether enslavement to SHIELD (“Call it for what it is,” said Tony) meant Steve had to stay in Maryland/DC, and which identity Steve should go to the VA as.

“You want to be as close to your VA as you can,” said Rhodes. “You just never know when you’ll need them, so clear up with SHIELD where you’re expected to report to. And if possible, negotiate where based on where you want to go to school.”

“Okay,” said Steve.

“I recommend you go to the VA as Cap,” said Rhodes. “That way you won’t have to explain yourself as much.”

“But Steve can’t stay in Cap-mode for too long,” said Bruce. “Will there be any reason for a visit to last more than three weeks?”

“If there is, something really wrong is happening,” Rhodes said.

“I’ll go as Cap, then,” said Steve.

“Good. Now this is mostly for me,” Rhodes turned serious, “How old are you?”

Steve smiled. “Ninety.”

Rhodes looked very unhappy at the answer. He later cornered Bruce for a word.

“I really need to settle this in my head,” said Rhodes. “I won’t be able to sleep if I keep wondering if Captain America is secretly a twelve-year-old kid.”

Bruce smiled sympathetically. “Let me show you something.”

In a few seconds, Bruce had four sets holographic images up, courtesy of Maryland division JARVIS.

“This,” Bruce pointed at the image on the far left, “is the pelvic bone of an adult male. And this,” he pointed at the picture on the far right, “is the pelvic bone of an adult female. As you no doubt noticed, there are clear differences between the two. The inlet of a male pelvis is narrower and more heart shaped, whereas a female pelvis inlet is wider and circular. The angle of the pubic arc,” Bruce pointed them out, “is different, too. The angle of a male arc is acute, but a female arc is obtuse.”

“Okay,” said Rhodes, “And the middle two images are…”

“This,” said Bruce, pointed at the middle-left image, “is Steve’s pelvic bone in Captain America mode. This,” he pointed at the image on the middle right, “is Steve’s pelvic bone in Optimal Mode or skinny mode. Tell me, what do you see?”

Rhodes stared at the four sets of images for a long time. His eyes darted back and forth as he processed what he was seeing.

At length, he covered his mouth and said, “ … Holy Sh!t.”

Bruce scratched his head ruefully. “Now you gotta keep in mind that sex-related skeletal features are not obvious in children's bones. There are subtle differences you can detect, sure, but it becomes more defined after puberty.”

“So the difference between Skinny-Cap and Big-Cap’s pelvic bones, it isn’t…”

“It’s still possible, sorry,” said Bruce quietly. “We _are_ talking about borderline supernatural body changes that allow someone to gain six inches of height and eighty pounds of muscle mass in a span of seconds. So who the hell knows what it does to the bone structure? Now, I’m very reluctant to think seventy years ago the US army took nine-year-olds, experimented on them and sent the successful ones to war. Steve’s mental maturity I think says otherwise, but then I’m extremely biased. Prodigies can be very mature …  more mature than a lot of adults.”

Colonel Rhodes rubbed his face as though in pain.

“Somehow, the alternative seems worse,” he said. “How does Cap handle this? Obviously, it’s not something … something he … no, damn it, how do you _deal_?!” he exploded.

“I avoid any direct references to pronouns or age when I talk about Steve,” said Bruce somberly. “I’m sure you figured this out already, Colonel, but this isn’t something we can afford the wrong people to know. There are far-reaching consequences in knowing how narrow a target the super-soldier serum is effective. Plus, Steve trusts me not to dig deeper. I intend to keep that trust.”

“Is it okay for me to see this, then?” Rhodes asked.

“Steve agreed I can explain the situation to anyone trustworthy who asks,” said Bruce.

Rhodes exhaled. “Thanks for the confidence, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bruce said. “Just so you know: I wanna know, too. Heaven help me, I do, badly, but I won’t. Not until I have an okay.”

Bruce and Colonel Rhodes talked a bit more on the subject. It mostly consisted of Bruce answering Rhodes’ concerns over chromosomal information (“The serum turns the recipient into a chimera. I have evidence to back that up. At any rate, we can’t know for sure until we take a bone marrow sample, which I won’t allow.”) Once he reassured Colonel Rhodes, Bruce assumed he could start working on something easy, like getting Steve into college or something.

He was wrong. Dead wrong.

Bruce was aware there was a lot of interest in the Avengers in general and Captain America in particular. What he wasn’t aware was just how many Captain America aficionados existed. These were the people who knew every holder of the title Captain America, including those whom Steve heard but never met, wrote hundreds of pages of essays on the historical, cultural and military significance of each Captain America, and were in the forefront of being outraged at Steve’s lack of documentation. Then someone—a descendant of a scientist who used to work for the SSR, according to Internet rumor—disclosed the sinister fact that Isaiah Bradley, the only African American man in Steve’s old team, had been physically castrated without his consent before getting injected because male hormones didn’t work well with the serum.

The public reaction to this was … well, explosive. The Internet got bombarded with crotch close-ups of different Captain America(s) and far too detailed analysis on whether or not the particular Cap had ‘faucets’. This was quickly followed by demands for accountability for the responsible parties. It wasn’t long before SHIELD sent someone to ask Steve to make a public statement.

“I thought I was on medical leave,” Steve protested.

“It won’t be a public venue where you need to be in person,” said Agent Hill. “We’re thinking a live video stream.”

“It’s still live,” said Steve. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“We’ll prescreen the questions and coach you on how to answer them,” said Agent Hill. “You have to do this, Captain. It’s about your reputation and that of your late teammates.”

Steve looked frankly miserable after being pressed into this corner. It made Bruce’s blood boil.

“We need to think this over,” said Bruce. “We’ll let you know in a couple of days.”

“We’re in a time crunch, doctor,” said Agent Hill, frowning disapprovingly.

“No, we’re not,” said Bruce, not bothering to be nice. “And I heard from good authority if someone pushes you to make a big decision on a short notice, they’re trying to con you.”

Bruce informed Pepper about the request later that evening. As expected, she was not happy.

“You did the right thing, not giving SHIELD an answer,” said Pepper, her eyes glinting like steel, “Let me handle this.”

Bruce didn’t know how, but before long he was sitting with Steve and Pepper for a meeting with Director Fury in Tony’s River Road Mansion.

“I wasn’t aware this had anything to do with Stark Industries,” said Fury.

“Steve asked me to handle anything PR related in regards to his role as Captain America,” said Pepper. “I’m fulfilling that request.”

Fury’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “SHIELD is handling that.”

“I’m sure you’re doing your best,” said Pepper, smiling with her teeth showing. “I just have concerns over the wisdom of Steve making a public statement on your organization’s behalf. The way I see it, the current outcry has nothing to do with Captain America’s reputation, but everything to do with answering the public’s reasonable demand for SHIELD to answer for its predecessor entity on what it did to the people who later became ‘Captain America’.”

“Be that as it may, as a SHIELD operative, Rogers is expected to speak on behalf of its employer if need be,” said Fury.

“SHIELD employs Commander Rogers. _Not_ ,” Pepper stressed, “Captain Rogers, who, by your own insistence, are separate people. We’re dealing with Captain Rogers here, not Commander Rogers.”

“Oh, you’re gonna use that technicality?” said Fury.

“If I must,” said Pepper, her smile widening. “By all means, we can argue about that. Time will tell who is right and has more to lose, won’t we?”

A tense silence fell between Pepper and Fury. Neither backed down nor gave the other an inch. Bruce and Steve, spectators of the duel of wits, watched in awe.

“I wanna be like Pepper when I grow up,” Steve muttered quietly.

“Don’t we all,” Bruce said.

The meeting eventually ended in a standstill, with neither party agreeing to anything.

“That’s exactly what we want, sweetie,” Pepper said, as she wrapped a comforting arm around Steve’s narrow shoulders. “Delayed action is going to hurt them more than you. All you need to worry about is making sure people know what happened to you because of the serum as it actually happened to you, and not let SHIELD or the army only put out a version that makes them look better.”

Steve absently leaned into Pepper while thinking about this. “Do you think we can use the Q&A to convince people recreating the serum is a bad idea?”

“Sure, if we moderate it that way,” said Pepper. “What do you have in mind?”

Bruce and Steve compiled a list, Bruce focusing on the medical aspects, and Steve on what happened on a personal level. The latter had all the elements of horrible and tragic Bruce instinctively associated with Steve’s life, and several times he was tempted to walk away because he felt overwhelmed. Pepper, on the other hand, retained her composure and professionalism while she helped them word the contents for public consumption. Afterward, she fell on Tony and asked:

“Tony, can you make me a time machine?”

“Sure, my genius is endless, I’ll probably figure it out in a year or a decade,” Tony said as he held on to Pepper. “I don’t think the world ready for a time traveling Tony Stark, tho’. Why d’you want it?”

“I need to kidnap Steve from 1942,” Pepper replied.

“Oh, baby,” said Tony, with genuine regret. “You know you can’t because of the time paradox.”

Pepper buried her face in Tony’s shoulder.

“Shut up, let me dream.”

It must be said Pepper Potts did not let personal feelings interfere with what needed to get done. Within hours she used the twitter account dedicated to Iron Man to advertise the moderated Q&A featuring Captain America. Several tens of thousands of people signed up within minutes and submitted their questions. JARVIS sorted through them and submitted the ‘ _top twenty common questions relevant to our interest_ ’ for preview. In preparation for the impromptu event, Tony set up a video host that he assured would not let anyone figure where the transmission originated from, and Steve practiced answering to a camera under Pepper’s supervision. Before they knew it, it was the time for the Q&A.

Steve opted to do the Q&A at Lucy’s place, citing the homey atmosphere made talking easier than the opulent surroundings of Tony’s River Road mansion (Tony pouted at this). On cue, Steve as Captain America appeared on screen wearing comfortable flannels and a white t-shirt, the emphasis being Steve was a regular dude, serum enhancements aside.

“Is this thing on?” said Steve while adjusting the angle of the laptop camera. “Okay, hello everyone. Thank you for taking the time to, um, join me here. I was frankly overwhelmed at the interest. I didn’t think people would still remember Captain America, certainly not seventy years later. Anyway, there’s a lot of questions, and, unfortunately, not enough time to answer them all so, um, Iron Man helped me compile the top twenty. I apologize if I don't get around to answer yours. Anyway, let’s get started.”

On the top of the screen, the question appeared in white block letters with a black background.

_Q: Do you miss the good old days?_

“I do, but things aren’t so bad,” said Steve. “Food's a lot better, we used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. I’ve been reading that a lot to catch up.”

The next two questions were in the similar vein: what Steve liked about the future (“hot water on demand”) and what Steve was still getting used to (“The prices; Good Lord, the _prices_.”). The fourth question asked about the other Captain America[s] (“There were eight others, as far as I know: Michael and Grant Rogers, they were brothers, no relation; William Burnside; Bill Naslund; Jeffrey Mace; Jack Monroe; Isaiah Bradley; and James Walker. Jeffrey's the one you see in the old movies, and James Walker is the one you see on those vintage trading cards.”) Then they moved onto questions about the super-soldier serum.

_Q: Why did you take the serum?_

“Two reasons,” said Steve. “In 1942, I was dying of TB in a Sanatorium. My parents were dead, and the only person who cared whether I lived or died was at the front. So when someone offered me an experimental serum that, I quote, can give me a chance to live, I decided why not, I had nothing to lose.

“I was offered to take part of the super-soldier program later when I responded favorably to the treatment. Whatever the comic books say, the transformation wasn’t instantaneous. It took several weeks. Anyway, the lead scientist told me the thing I was given wasn’t a cure for TB, but step 0 of the super-soldier program, and that I could continue the process or stop right here and go back to being sick. Then he asked me what I would do if I became a super-soldier. I said I would join the war. He asked if I wanted to kill Nazis. I said I don’t want to kill anyone, I just don’t like bullies, I don’t care where they are from, and if I gained the power to stop them, then that’s how I would use it.

“Long story short … it seemed to me the serum would give me a chance to do something worthwhile, after a lifetime of not being able to because I was too sick.”

_Q: Did the transformation hurt a lot?_

“Yes.”

_Q: Is true you need to be castrated for the serum to work?_

“I don’t know,” said Steve flatly. “I’m not a scientist, and it wasn’t something you asked. I can only speak for myself: I knew years before the serum even existed that I wasn’t going to have my own kids. The serum didn’t fix that.”

_Q: What is it like to be a super-soldier?_

“Well, growing almost a foot taller got some getting used to,” said Steve, “And though it’s been three years since I transformed from my perspective, I still think there’s a stranger staring back at me when I look into a mirror. I don’t know about my teammates, but I was amazed at the sheer of amount of things that didn’t hurt when it was all over. As you know, I used to be sick all the time, and I was so used being in pain, I didn’t know there was something wrong about it. Like, apparently you’re not supposed to gray out when you stand up after sitting.”

_Q: What is it the biggest drawback of being super-soldier?_

“Heightened senses,” said Steve firmly. “You’re used to sensing the world with this much information, and then all of a sudden there's four times more information. It’s very disorienting. Also, heightened senses make pain feels worse, and some things that weren’t painful before now feels awful. Bill Naslund couldn’t abide any touch after the serum, for example, and Michael Rogers said the world was now so loud, the cacophony was driving him mad. If I were to pick one thing I could’ve lived without, it would be the magnified sense of smell. Jack Monroe and I used to complain it was like being pregnant all the time.

“Our doctors, on the other hand, had a hard time dealing with our metabolism. Drugs simply don’t work on us, see. Trying to operate on a super-soldier without sedatives or painkillers is not fun, folks.”

_Q: Knowing what you know now, would you have still taken the serum?_

“I would’ve hesitated longer.”

Steve continued to read down the list. There were enough questions unrelated to the serum sprinkled throughout to make look as though the questions were indeed picked according to the frequency of it being raised (it did make Bruce wonder how doctored other live streaming Q&A events were).

The final question asked what Steve did when it was just … hard. There was a sincerity in the wording that was touching. Steve certainly looked moved.

“My best friend, Bucky, made me promise something,” said Steve. “That if he died, but I lived, then I’d do two things: that every day I’ll try something new, and find someone kind and talk to them. I guess he knew if left to my own devices, I’d turn into a book with legs dangling on the bottom. Remembering to fulfill that helps.”

Bruce looked down. His throat felt swollen and his chest felt tight. The answer addressed something that he’d wondered about for a while: why did Steve seek him out in the Helicarrier? And for Bruce to be deemed kind out of all people Steve met since waking up was …

“Aaaand that concludes our live streaming event,” said Tony, abruptly jumping in front of the camera. “That’s all folks. Peace out.”

Tony ended the stream. Steve collapsed on a couch right after.

“I’m never doing this again,” Steve mumbled into a cushion.

“Then don’t,” said Tony simply. “You should treat yourself. Do something stupidly extravagant: spa, tropical island, sail around the world on a souped up Yacht, whatever it is, just let me know, I’ll make it happen.”

Steve looked completely blank for a long time. Clearly, no ideas were forthcoming.

“How about a Sherlock Holmes tour in London?” Lucy suggested.

Everyone looked at her.

“There is such a thing?” Steve asked. Bruce thought the interest was encouraging.

“Yes. There are also Jack the Ripper walks if you are interested,” said Lucy.

Bruce, Tony, and Steve looked at each as they considered this.

“Haven’t been to London since the war,” said Steve thoughtfully.

“London changed a lot since then,” Bruce remarked.

“And hey, what d’you know, I have a penthouse in London,” said Tony, grinning. “Okay. That settles it. Stupidly extravagant Sherlock Holmes tour it is.”

Pepper arranged the trip as soon as she heard about it. In a week, she had Bruce and Steve flying to London on a private jet (“Of course it’s extravagant. That’s the whole point of this trip, sweetie.”). Tony stayed behind because of heart surgery (“Not fair!”). From Heathrow to Tony’s penthouse, Bruce and Steve had to do nothing but let all the people Pepper assigned to take care of things do their job.

The Sherlock Holmes tour was better than Bruce expected. It certainly got Steve's imagination running. By the end of it, Steve was talking about going to Dartmoor for a Hound of Baskervilles thing, and then Sussex Downs (where Sherlock Holmes went to retire, apparently) just for the hell of it. Soon Bruce and Steve were talking about all of unabashedly touristy things they could do in London before heading out.

Then they switched on the telly and saw a very familiar looking old man running around naked at the Stonehenge.

“Is that Dr. Eric Selvig?” said Steve incredulously.

Bruce squinted and then gasped. “It is.”

They sat quietly for a second while the news showed the police arrest Selvig and take away his equipment.

“Should we … we should go help him,” said Steve.

Bruce sighed. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so many things I wanted to write in this chapter. So. Many. Things. Like, Pepper and Natasha kidnapping Steve for clothes shopping, Steve and Bruce hiding away in bookstores instead, Bruce and Steve going to Malibu for Christmas and meeting all of Tony's bots, and other fluff. But after the Q&A I was done. Sorry folks.


	7. Thor: the Dark World, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied horrific body mutilation ahead......

Bruce asked JARVIS to find out where Eric Selvig was taken to (a psychiatric ward in London, it turned out). Once they got an address, Bruce and Steve left the penthouse and hailed a cab.

"What do you think happened to him?" Steve asked.

"Well, Academia is like madness, and sometimes it causes the real thing," said Bruce.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You really think that's what happened?"

"Not really," Bruce said. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

They arrived at the psych ward after suffering through a great deal of London traffic, most of it caused by suicidal birds or so said their cabbie. At the reception area, they found a bespectacled young woman and a mousy-haired young man claiming to be Eric Selvig's progeny.

"You'll have to sign for your father's belongings, Mr. Selvig," said the guard.

The young woman smacked her male companion's head when he didn't react on time.

"What?" the young man stammered. "Oh, yeah. My father, Dr. Eric Selvig."

Steve and Bruce approached the two while the guard placed Eric's confiscated belongings on the counter, one by one.

"One man's leather wallet, brown. One keyring, three keys. Prescription medicine … various. And…"

The moment, Eric entered the lobby. He didn't look altogether present, but mentally light years away.

"Eric!" exclaimed the young woman. The guard, meanwhile, handed over to the young man some white tent poles that had embedded lights.

Eric stared blankly at the young woman. "Yes?" he asked.

"It's, uh, Darcy," said the young woman.

Understanding dawned on Eric's face. "Darcy."

Darcy held up her hands and smiled. Eric stepped forward and gave her a hug.

"So good to see you," said Eric, hugging tightly.

"Uh, I missed you, too," said Darcy, hugging back.

"How did you find me?" Eric asked, still hugging.

"You were naked on TV," said the still-unnamed young man.

There was an awkward beat of silence, during which Eric kept hugging Darcy.

"Okay, time to go, lot's to do," said Darcy, breaking the silence. "Getting weird now. Let go."

Eric let go as requested. Then he turned and saw Bruce and Steve hovering quietly in the vicinity.

"Bruce!" said Eric, surprised and delighted. "Bruce Banner, as I live and breathe! I thought they put you away in an underground vault! Thought I'd never see you again!"

Eric then lurched over and fiercely embraced Bruce, who very awkwardly returned it.

"Hi, Eric," Bruce murmured.

"Thought I'd never see you again," Eric repeated with much feeling. "So who is this?"

Bruce craned his neck to see who Eric was referring to.

"That's Steve," said Bruce, flapping his hands like a T-Rex. "We met … I guess in the same vault SHIELD tried to put me in."

Steve waved shyly. "Hello, Dr. Selvig."

Eric made a pained noise. "They're taking children now?"

"Um," said Steve, wide-eyed.

Bruce waited, selfishly hoping Steve would tell the truth, whatever it was. Alas, the silence just stretched.

"C'mon, Eric, we really need to go," said Darcy. "Sorry guys, but we got stuff to do. Important stuff."

Steve nodded. "Let me help you carry your things."

Darcy pulled Eric off of Bruce. The five of them then walked down the main corridor of the building, the young man and Steve carrying Eric's equipment.

"I should not be left in charge of stuff like this," Darcy grumbled. "I don't get paid enough. I don't get paid, period."

Eric didn't respond, but grabbed a bag of meds from Steve and took out a pill bottle.

"I'm Ian by the way," said the young man, "uh, Darcy's intern. Yeah, I don't get paid either. Are you all right?"

Eric knocked back some pills. "I've had a god in my brain. I don't recommend it."

Bruce winced at the reminder of Loki as they stepped outside. Almost immediately, the tent poles Ian was carrying began to beep.

"Dr. Selvig, sir, your gear is beeping at me," said Ian nervously.

Eric stilled.

"It's happening," he muttered. "Sooner than I calculated."

"Wait, what's happening?" Darcy asked.

Eric stared at the sky, where a flock of birds flew overhead.

" _Birds_?" Darcy said, incredulous. "Birds are happening?"

"They're starlings," said Ian, also looking up. "It's called a murmuration. My dad, he used to take me bird watching as a kid."

"Eric?" said Darcy.

"Look," said Eric, still staring.

As though on cue, the birds simply disappeared in mid-flight.

"Where'd they go?" said Darcy.

Moments later the birds erupted from the very ground at their feet and flew back into the air. Bruce stifled a horrified yell when he was briefly engulfed by black flapping wings. Next to him, Darcy screamed.

"What the hell was that?!" she shouted. "Why are you smiling?"

Bruce did a double-take and saw the broad smile on Eric's face.

"There's nothing more reassuring than realizing that the world is crazier than you are," Eric declared. Then he threw his bag of meds into a nearby bin. "Take me to Jane's lab! Bruce, do come along!"

And so Bruce and Steve found themselves in a cramped London apartment, which Darcy informed them belonged to Dr. Jane Foster's mother. While Bruce mournfully contemplated how this became his life, Eric removed his pants.

"Um, Dr. Selvig, your pants," said Ian timidly.

"It helps me think," said Eric.

Bruce took this as a cue to remove his shoes for Serious Thinking. If he must go mad, then he was going to do it comfortably.

"Eric, what were you doing at Stonehenge?" Bruce asked, now barefoot.

In lieu of an answer, Eric looked around and made groping motions. Bruce shoved some notebook paper and pencils towards his direction. Eric pounced on them and started scribbling. He stopped when he'd drawn a complicated diagram featuring nine circles that looked like planets. Bruce studied the formulas written on the margins and confirmed the circles were indeed planets: they were about the orbital speed of a spherical object on an elliptical path.

"The universe rotates on a five thousand year cycle," Eric began, "and once a cycle, all the worlds align." He held up a shoe, one of Bruce's, "Imagine … Imagine that this is our world, and now…" he looked around, and Bruce gave him his other shoe. "Oh, thank you. And this is another world. Normally they're separate, but during the Alignment everything is connected. All Nine Realms. All Nine Realms are passing through each other and gravity, light, and even Matter is crashing from one world to the other."

Erick smacked Bruce's shoes together, over and over. Bruce, meanwhile, revised his previous conclusion that the circles were planets. They may not be necessarily so if a mere alignment of them would cause a breakdown in physical reality.

"But if this happens to us now, the result would be cataclysmic," Eric went on.

"Because there's no clear focal point?" Bruce said.

"Precisely!" said Eric, grinning like an understood academic only could, "My gravimetric spikes can stabilize the focal point of the convergence. This time the Alignment, and all the other worlds would just pass up by. It's beautiful. It's simple. Any questions?"

"Why were you even looking for the Alignment?" Steve asked.

"Jane," said Eric simply.

"She's been using science to look for you-know-who," Darcy further expounded.

"Who?" Steve asked.

"Oh, you know, Thor?" said Darcy impatiently. "Alien Prince guy from space?"

"He sounds familiar," said Bruce dryly. "Speaking of which, where is Dr. Foster?"

"We don't know," said Darcy, now sounding worried. "She vanished. Then she came back five hours later. Thor came back, too, all of a sudden, then something weird happened to Jane, she did this shockwave thingy, and then they both vanished. So I called the police, I called SHIELD, but nothing."

Bruce took steady breaths as he took in all this. "You called SHIELD," he stated.

"What else was I supposed to do?" said Darcy defensively. "Jane's been gone for _days_!"

"I understand, and I'm not accusing you," said Bruce evenly. "Steve, I think we should-"

He didn't get to finish. The door to the apartment opened and Jane Foster, dressed in some kind of medieval robe made of a chiffon-y material, and Thor in full battle regalia stepped inside. Both looked disheveled.

Darcy jumped to her feet. "Jane!"

"Hey," said Dr. Foster distractedly.

"You can't just leave like that," Darcy babbled. Behind the two, Bruce saw Thor hang his hammer on a coat hook, as natural as can be. "The whole world is going crazy. All the stuff we saw is spreading." She suddenly frowned at Dr. Foster's attire. "Did you go to a party?"

Dr. Foster ignored the last comment. "Eric!?"

"Jane! How wonderful!" Eric cried. He went over and gave her a tight hug. He then looked at her clothing. "You've been to Asgard."

"Where are your pants," Dr. Foster asked.

"Oh, he, uh … he says it helps him think," Ian said.

"Okay, well, I'm going to need everything you've got on this," said Dr. Foster briskly. "All the work you've been doing on gravimetric anomalies, everything."

"Okay," said Eric.

Just then Thor joined the group. He looked at Eric with concern. "Are you well, Eric?" he asked.

Eric laughed – there was a definite note of hysteria in it – and then turned serious. "Your brother's not coming, is he?"

"Loki is dead," said Thor in a low voice.

"Oh, thank God!" said Eric explosively. Then at Thor's look of confusion, he caught himself. "I meant … I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," said Thor, sincerely enough.

Eric stepped forward and hugged Thor. Bruce saw him grin with relief. Thor, meanwhile, noticed Bruce and Steve, about the same time Dr. Foster noticed their existence.

"Banner!" Thor said, looking openly happy. "You are here as well?"

"I'm here on vacation," muttered Bruce. "At least I _was_ …"

Thor beamed. "This is most fortuitous. Your help may be much needed today. Jane and I shall explain. Now …" he turned his gaze a little side-ways. "Who is the child?"

Steve looked like a deer caught by high beams. "Uh."

"That's Steve. Banner found him in a SHIELD vault," said Darcy helpfully.

Dr. Foster looked troubled. Thor, on the other hand, nodded and studied Steve with interest. "You look like someone I know," he said.

Steve swallowed, while Darcy perked up: "Oh, who? Who does he look like?"

"The American Captain," said Thor.

A stunned quiet fell inside the apartment. Steve stared at Bruce, and silently beseeched him to do something. Bruce just stared back, equally at a loss as to what they were supposed to do.

"Okay, back on topic, everyone," said Dr. Foster, clapping her hands. "So this is what happened…"

Dr. Foster told them about Malekith, the leader of the Dark Elves (an old enemy of Thor's race, apparently), who was planning to use the reality-blurring properties of the Convergence to destroy all Nine Realms and thus regain dominion over their galaxy, and his intention to use Aether (a sentient substance based on Dark Matter; seriously, wtf) as a galactic-scale weapon of mass destruction. By the time she was finished speaking, Bruce could no longer hold in the very heavy sigh festering in his chest.

"I miss studying gamma rays," he moaned.

"Malekith is going to fire the Aether at a spot where all the nine world is connecting," said Dr. Foster, ignoring Bruce.

"Amplifying the weapon's impact," said Eric in a relay. "For each additional world, the power will increase exponentially. The effect would be universal."

"Yes, but the alignment is only temporary," said Thor. "He must be in exactly the right place at the right time."

"Well, how do we know where that is?" asked Darcy.

Bruce sighed again. "This happened before, right? Can we trace back the last occurrence?"

"We can," said Eric, as he grabbed a world map. "When the Convergence happened thousands of years ago, the Ancients were there to see it."

Eric swept all the stuff on a table and spread the map on top of it.

"All the great constructions: the Mayans, the Chinese, the Egyptians … they made use of the gravitational effects of the Convergence," Eric explained. "And so they left us a map. We just have to follow directions."

He then started drawing ruling lines directly on the map. Bruce waited to see the focal point.

"Stonehenge, Snowden, the Great Orme," Eric said as he drew lines from the sites in order. "These are all coordinates taking us… _Here_."

He pointed at the UK, right beneath the words GREENWICH.

"Greenwich?" said Ian.

"The walls between worlds will be almost non-existent," said Dr. Foster. "Physics is gonna go ballistic. Increase and decrease in gravity, spatial extrusions. The very fabric of reality is gonna be torn apart."

Bruce licked his lips. A temporary meltdown in space-time-matter, _this_ he wanted to see. But then he saw Steve put on the Commander Rogers face, and remembered there was going to be a battle. Which meant the Other Guy may be needed. Dammit, but he wanted to be present when reality went banana balls.

"So our goal is twofold," said Steve, deadly serious. "Prevent accidental destruction by Convergence, and prevent wholly intentional destruction by Malekith. Dr. Selvig, you mentioned gravimetric spikes."

"We need to place them all over the focal point," said Eric. "Once they're in place, I'll activate them. That should take care of the Convergence."

"Okay. I'll put the poles wherever they need to be," said Steve decisively. "Now Malekith and his Dark Elf army: I assume they have the ability to transport themselves to Greenwich. Is there a way to transport them _away_?"

"Yes," said Dr. Foster quickly. "It's how Thor and I came back here, only in reverse. I have a device that detects gravitational anomalies. I can alter it to interact with the gravitational fields between worlds."

"Thank you," said Steve, looking a bit dazed. "Bruce, help Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig. Thor and I will work on containment when Malekith shows up. Send them packing as soon as you're ready. Darcy and Ian, alert the law enforcement and evacuate anyone inside the focal point."

There was a beat while the earth-born civilians absorbed the orders. Thor, the exception, summoned his hammer whilst giving Steve a look that was half-knowing and half-puzzled.

"Why are you giving us orders?" Darcy asked.

"SHIELD is grooming Steve to be their Commander and General. In short, she's qualified," said Bruce. He then winced at the pronoun slip.

"Say what?" Darcy exclaimed, while Steve marched off without another comment.

"I better get my pants," Eric muttered.

Bruce went looking for Steve in the hubbub that followed. He found Steve talking to someone on the phone in the bathroom.

"There's gonna be an alien attack in Greenwich sometime today," Steve said. "Thor came here to warn us. Bruce and I are gonna help him."

" _Thank you for the heads up, Rogers_ ," said Nick Fury's voice. He sounded like he needed a stiff drink. " _Do you need anything?_ "

Bruce muttered quickly: "Spectrometers. Ask him for spectrometers."

"Bruce needs Spectrometers," said Steve.

" _We'll give him the authorization to use the spectrometers in Greenwich University,_ " said Fury.

"Thank you. I'll try to minimize the damage. No promises, tho'," Steve went on.

Fury let out a gusting sigh. " _Noted. Now make sure you fight as Captain America. On the off-chance our planet survives, I'd rather see pictures of him on Twitter._ "

"Yes, sir," Steve said gravely. "Gotta go now, sir. Hopefully, I'll be able to call you back. But in case I can't … it was a pleasure to work with you."

"Good to know you're optimistic," said Bruce, when the call ended.

Steve grinned. "Oh, I am. I just make sure I'm extra realistic for Fury. I'm sure he'll appreciate the pleasant surprise later."

Bruce smiled fondly.

"I love it when you troll him."

oooo

Bruce and Steve went back to Tony's penthouse after promising to meet Thor, Dr. Foster - who insisted they call her Jane - and the latter's crew at Greenwich University. At the penthouse, Steve changed for battle: the boots Tony designed to accommodate the transformations replaced the sneakers, and kevlar went under normal clothes. Then Steve took out the Captain America shield from their baggage and told Bruce to pick a car to borrow from Tony's collection.

"I have zero confidence driving in London, just so you know," Bruce said, after selecting the Mini Cooper.

"I'll drive, then," said Steve.

They made their way towards Greenwich. Steve focused on navigating the hairpin turns and avoiding jaywalkers, therefore appeared disinclined to speak. But at a light, Steve broke the silence.

"I thought you weren't gonna pry."

"I'm not," said Bruce quickly. "I'm sorry about the pronoun. It wasn't a test. It was a mistake."

"You still want to know, though," Steve pointed out.

"I'm a scientist who doesn't have a clear answer to a very thorny problem," said Bruce apologetically. "Sorry, I can't seem to help myself."

Steve smiled wryly. "I won't judge you for that. So you're not sure if I'm a dame or a boy?"

"My preliminary research suggests the serum is highly sensitive to testosterone levels. My estimate is it works best for boys from ages ten to twelve, and girls from ages nine to nineteen. Your … pelvis says you can be either."

Steve let out a sigh that was not quite steady.

"I see. We'll talk after," Steve said in a low voice. Then the light went green, and they made a turn.

Bruce and Steve arrived at Greenwich U right on time (Steve's military background shown in these situations). Thor, Jane, and company were not there yet, so Bruce and Steve used the time to find the spectrometers. After threatening dire consequences to the lab guys if they turned them off or otherwise messed up the data, Bruce and Steve went to the library grounds to meet the rest of their party.

"We need to put these all over the campus," said Eric, handing over a bundle of white tent poles to Steve.

"Okay," said Steve, taking them.

"We'll activate them once they're all in position," said Jane.

"Can we help?" asked Ian.

Steve smiled. "It's alright. Just give me twenty seconds."

Steve kicked the ground a few times. The next blink, Steve was gone. There was white pole where Steve used to stand, buried deep in the ground.

"Wow, he's fast," said Darcy.

"Is she an alien?" asked Ian, bug-eyed.

"Enhanced human," Bruce said.

"What, like Captain America?" Jane asked, while Eric gaped.

"Well…" Bruce started. But before he could say anything, Steve returned, looking windswept.

"Done," said Steve.

"Ohmygod, what are you?" said Darcy, while a knowing grin appeared on Thor's face.

Steve shrugged; then stomped on the edge of the Captain America shield they'd laid on the ground and strapped it on in one smooth motion. Bruce couldn't help but admire Steve's mastery and athleticism.

Ian pointed. "Wait, isn't that-"

"Holy shit!" Darcy interrupted.

They looked at where Darcy was pointing. An immense black skyscraper-like object covered in symbols hovered over the River Thames, near the grounds on which they stood. As they watched, the ship - Bruce assumed the black object was a ship - started moving towards them, triggering pandemonium. The ship eventually stopped in the middle of the grounds, and humanoid and inhumanly white-faced aliens with pointy ears disembarked from a small opening. Instinctively, Bruce's eyes sought their heavy-hitters and saw…

"OHMYGOD YOU'RE CAPTAIN AMERICA!" Darcy screamed, pointing at Steve, who was now big and muscle-y.

"I knew it!" said Thor triumphantly. "From your manner of speech, I thought it was you, though your stature was much smaller! But how-"

"I shrink when I'm off-duty," Steve muttered.

Thor nodded as though that made sense. "And Captain America is…"

"The guy who shows up when I'm scared out of my mind and I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Steve replied. "Is that…?"

"Malekith," Thor confirmed. He raised his hammer.

Steve grimly faced the enemy. "Bruce, get everyone inside."

"Okay," said Bruce.

Bruce, Jane, Eric, Darcy and Ian ran inside the library, while Thor and Steve ran towards the enemy. Once indoors, Bruce and the rest of his vanilla-human companions stared at the battle ensuing outside.

"Focus!" said Jane, at last. Then she started fidgeting with a device, "Eric, how long until the Convergence?"

"Seven minutes," said Eric.

"So we need to keep Malekith occupied for eight," said Jane grimly.

There were series of loud crashes. They all looked up and saw one of the Dark Elves shoot dark energy stuff at Thor via his hands.

"That's the Aether," said Jane. "The guy shooting it is Malekith."

Bruce nodded. "If we survive this, I'm gonna write so many papers."

"You and me both," said Jane fervently. "Dibs on gravimetric anomalies."

"As long as you let me have Dark Matter slash Aether, we have a deal."

They went back working. Bruce occasionally looked up to see how Steve was doing. On his first check, he saw Steve take out three Dark Elves by throwing the shield like a highly lethal frisby/billiard ball. On his second check, Bruce saw Steve spear an Elf and while simultaneously kick another in the gut. On his third glance, he saw Steve do a twisty aerial leap to avoid an incoming Aether shot, catch the shield, and then throw the shield again to take out a four-legged beast.

"There!" said Jane. Then she looked up and noticed the crowd of students plastered at the windows, staring at the battle raging outside. All of them had their phones out and recording.

"What are you all doing? You need to get out of here! Now!" she shouted.

"You're joking, right?" said one student. "That's Thor out there waving his hammer around, and Captain America fighting aliens! I'm going nowhere!"

Bruce sighed. "Just do it."

Jane nodded and turned on her device. The dark elves on the ground vanished. Steve, who is in the middle of fighting them, was nowhere to be seen.

"That was awesome!" cried Darcy. "How did you do that?!"

Jane smiled. "Like I said, gravitational fields interact with the weak spot between worlds, which creates…"

"Where is Steve?!" asked Bruce, alarmed.

"Um," said Jane.

She used her device again. This time, Darcy and Ian vanished.

"...Oops," said Jane.

"We need to move," said Eric, while Bruce covered his face in despair.

Bruce eventually came to and followed after Jane and Eric to the grounds. In the sky, one could see a giant hole through which one could see eight worlds slowly coming into a line. Then Jane used her device again, and four-legged beasts covered in horns and things appeared out of thin air and started attacking the Elves. In a far distance, he could see Steve attempting to get the Law Enforcement to evacuate the rubbernecking students.

Bruce took that moment to ponder how this all came to pass. He didn't like where his thoughts headed.

Jane continued to work on her device while Bruce dwelled in philosophical thinky-thoughts. After losing signal communication for too long, she managed to use the device to bring Steve, Ian, and Darcy back to their vicinity. Ian and Darcy returned in each other's arms, kissing passionately, whereas Steve came back covered in gore and looking 200% done with the fight, the aliens, Jane's dimension-hopping-gravitational device and everything in between.

"Darcy?" said Jane incredulously.

"Jane!" said Darcy, letting go of Ian, who fell to the ground.

"Ian?" said Eric.

"Selvig!" said Ian.

Bruce jogged towards Steve and almost got hit by Thor's hammer when it flew by.

"Mew-mew!" said Darcy.

Bruce felt his blood boil beneath his skin from disproportionate rage. He drew in a calming breath and resisted the urge to shake a fist at the heavens. Then he resumed his trek to Steve as himself.

"Steve. Steve, are you alright?" Bruce asked urgently, once he got close enough.

Steve gave him an exhausted smile. "The ship's still here."

"Yeah, I don't think we're reaching it. We need to get closer," said Bruce.

"Will driving the poles into it, do?" Steve asked.

"I hope so."

"Okay," Steve sighed. The blue eyes seemed to be following the progress of something.

Suddenly, Bruce knew what Steve thinking.

"Steve, no. No, no, no, _no_. That's stupid, that's dangerous, don't-"

He was talking to thin air. Steve was already racing towards the flying hammer, pulling out a pole on the way.

"STEVE!" Bruce roared, "YOU IDIOT, GET BACK HERE!"

Steve didn't hear him. Or just ignored him. Throwing all sanity and caution into the wind, Steve did a mighty leap, reached out and grabbed Thor's hammer by the handle.

Bruce stared, heart in his mouth, as Thor's hammer hurtled towards a stone wall at murderous speeds, Steve in tow. Then Steve did an airborne somersault and planted both feet on the grassy lawn. As soon as the skidding stopped, Steve ran straight towards the ship, where Aether was gathering like a storm cloud, hammer, shield and a gravimetric pole firmly in hand.

"Dear God, he can wield Mjolnir," said Eric, awed.

That moment, Steve's face brightened. "THOR!"

Thor was indeed running towards them. He looked absolutely astonished. "CAPTAIN?!"

Steve pointed at the ship and Aether. "Need to get this pole up there! Can you?!"

"Yes!" Thor shouted.

"Then catch!" Steve shouted back.

Steve threw the pole first, and then the hammer. Thor caught both. He stared at Steve in amazement for a beat and then ran into the Aether.

Everyone watched the Aether breathlessly. It writhed and flared while Thor presumably battled Malekith. Then Jane used the device and the Aether was no longer there. Thor, on the other hand, landed on the ground hard enough to make a crater.

He didn't move.

Then the ship started to crumble.

"Thor! No!" Jane screamed in anguish, as she ran towards Thor. Steve, of course, followed after her.

" _Steve!_ " Bruce shouted, as he, Ian and Darcy joined the scene.

The ship continued to crumble. Bruce watched Jane struggle to move the unconscious Thor. Steve covered the two from falling debris and then attempted to lift Thor's massive body. Bruce saw the rate in which the ship was falling and knew there was not enough time.

He looked around. He found Jane's gravimetric device some way ahead. He dove after it and pressed a button.

The ship vanished.

A disquieting silence ensued.

"Everybody okay?" Eric asked. He was also holding a gravimetric device.

Bruce pushed himself back to his feet. He could see Jane crying and smiling down at Thor, who was stirring. In the corner of his eye, he could see Darcy throw her arms around Ian and kiss him passionately. He ignored them all and ran towards Steve.

He stopped about a foot away. For a while, all they could do was stare at each other.

"Um, I'm sorry?" Steve said sheepishly first.

Bruce let out an unsteady breath. "You are so grounded."

Steve chuckled.

"Sorry."

oooo

Steve, with Tony's go-ahead, invited Jane and her crew to the penthouse so they could all wait for Thor to return together (he said he had family business to take care of). Bruce called JARVIS to make sure the penthouse kitchen was stocked to feed ten people before they arrived. Once they got there, everyone except Jane was impressed at the furnishing and decor.

"This - place - is - _awesome!_ " Darcy squealed, as she threw herself on a king-size bed. "You two are hella loaded!"

"This is all Tony Stark," said Bruce. "I'm a pauper."

"And I don't even legally exist," said Steve.

Ian gaped at Steve, who was now back to Skinny mode. "Cap. You're … you're… "

"Puny?" Steve said.

Bruce could almost see Ian scramble for tact. " _Petite_ ," he finally blurted.

"Why do you only transform for fights? Life is easier when you're big, tall and good-looking," said Darcy.

Bruce wanted to throw her out of a window. Steve just sighed.

"Sanity. And I'd rather live and die as myself."

"But you're still you when you're Captain America size," said Darcy.

Steve smiled darkly.

"No, I'm really not."

oooo

Everyone stayed indoors and chatted awkwardly for the next two days. Jane tried to stay optimistic, despite knowing the last time Thor said he'd return, it took him two years. Bruce, for his part, tried not to bring up the conversation Steve promised that they would have since Steve had enough trouble deflecting Darcy and Ian's questions about the alien invasion in New York, and answering Fury's pointed questions on what happened in Greenwich.

It was the end of the third day of waiting when Thor returned to Earth as promised. Once he and Jane thoroughly reunited - a lot of thunder and lightning was involved - Thor sat down with Bruce and Steve.

"I shall be sojourning here for a while, my friends," said Thor. "I am needed here."

"Does your family approve?" Steve asked.

"All that is left of my family is my father, and he would have had me crowned King of Asgard and reigning as thus," Thor said somberly. "I refused. I cannot protect the nine realms and sit upon a throne at the same time."

"So you gave up the crown?" Bruce asked.

"It is my choice. I would rather be a good man than a good king."

"And sometimes you just have to do it yourself," said Steve knowingly. "I'm happy for you, Thor."

"Thank you," said Thor solemnly. "Now speaking of kings: Steven!" He broke out into a huge smile. "You are worthy of wielding Mjolnir! That makes you, in effect, the uncrowned king of Midgard!"

Whatever Thor intended when he said this, his words only made Steve look deeply troubled.

"I don't know, Thor. Earth doesn't have a good track record with kings. In fact, the last time we had a worthy king, we killed him by nailing him to a tree."

Thor grimaced. "Then perhaps it is best your kingly status remains unknown."

"My lips are sealed," Bruce said.

They had a lovely evening afterward. Thor and Jane returned to Jane's mother's flat the next day. Eric followed, taking Ian and a very reluctant Darcy with him.

An expectant silence fell in the penthouse after everyone left.

"So, um," Bruce stuttered.

"I didn't forget," said Steve quietly.

Bruce sat down. He felt guilty for pushing Steve into answering the question he said he'd leave alone, but now that he had the chance, the curiosity was consuming him alive. "Well then," he prompted.

Steve studied the floor for a long time. Bruce settled into his chair and waited.

At last Steve drew in a deep breath.

"I don't know."

Bruce twitched. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean I don't remember," said Steve miserably. "The impact and freezing left brain injuries. For a while, I couldn't even remember my own name."

Bruce felt like throwing up.

"You … how did you recover, then?" Bruce asked.

"Fury had me see a memory recovery specialist. He's really good," said Steve. "I have most of my memories post-serum. It's the stuff that happened before is where I have weird gaps."

Bruce covered his mouth. He felt really sick.

"And you can't tell by checking your body."

"No," said Steve softly. "I … most of my plumbing's been gutted out."

Bruce couldn't take it anymore. He ran to the sink and threw up.


	8. Interlude

Bruce didn't throw up for long, probably, and Steve was the last person to get offended by such things, but those few minutes were humiliating all the same. Steve rubbed his back while he hurled bile.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked, once Bruce regained control over himself.

"You - I should be the one asking that," whispered Bruce.

Steve smiled at him softly.

"You really hate it when people get hurt."

"I don't understand why anyone would be otherwise," muttered Bruce. "But there _are_ people who like hurting others, and that makes me angry."

"It's terrible," Steve agreed.

Steve handed him an open bottle of water. Bruce took a sip, swished the water inside his mouth and then spat it out. He took a drink after.

"I appreciate why you're so upset, Bruce," Steve said. "But there's not much you can do about it."

Bruce found his mind firing off ideas to the contrary.

"Besides, Miss Darcy had a point. In America and Western Europe, getting things done is easier when people think you're white, male and good-looking," said Steve sardonically.

Bruce didn't know how to react to that, or if he was supposed to read something into the statement, so he didn't.

Heavy air full of raw inarticulable feelings enveloped them soon after. Bruce fumbled around to figure out what he was supposed to do in situations like these. Steve put him out his misery by going off into the kitchen to make second breakfast. So Bruce retreated into his mind and thought about ways to Fix This.

And went exactly nowhere. After much tossing and turning and mentally flailing about, Bruce called Tony.

"What kind of accelerated tissue regeneration procedure did you go through?" Bruce asked, without even a greeting.

"Why do you need to know?" Tony replied.

"I know how you cheat," said Bruce.

"That's a diversion, and I'm calling you on it," Tony countered. "But if you insist: look up Dr. Helen Cho and the Cradle stem cell research."

Bruce smiled ruefully. "I read her papers. Good, promising stuff, and refreshingly minimalist in scope. So how long until your heart regains majority function?"

"Three months," Tony grumbled. "So what is this that I hear about an alien invasion in Greenwich?"

"A once every five thousand year event. Don't worry too much, Tony, it won't happen again. Probably."

"The caveat sounds ominous."

"Can't rule out another alien invasion without the rare space-time-matter anomaly that triggered it. Alas," said Bruce dryly. "Dr. Foster and I collected a lot of beautiful data from that event if you're interested."

"I am interested. Give me the dirt, Banner. What are the implications of this rare event you speak of?"

Bruce rattled off the gravitational field anomalies that allowed Jane to teleport groups of people to and from different realms. He also talked briefly about the Aether and what the data he'd collected from the spectrometers told him so far. He didn't mention anything about why he was calling. Tony could probably guess: this was his way of distancing himself from things he couldn't fix, couldn't control, couldn't handle.

Pathetic.

"How much longer do you think you'll stay in London?" Tony asked after a solid hour of talking nothing but math and physics. "Not that I want to interrupt your vaca, but I'm bored. BORED."

"I'll talk to Steve," said Bruce. "We might visit Dartmoor and Sussex Downs."

" _Why_?"

"Search me. I'm a doctor, not a Sherlock Holmes fan."

Bruce could hear Tony shake his head.

"Well, let me know when you head back. Because I repeat: _Bored_ ," Tony said petulantly. "Speaking of which. Star Trek. Star _Wars_. Steve is the last uncorrupted American in the world that I know of. I must be present when he learns about Luke's family. If you spoil him, _I will cut you_."

Bruce managed a weak smile.

"Ditto."

The two of them nattered some more about the Bifrost, and the potential for humans to understand the physics behind it. Then someone grabbed Tony by the ear—Bruce assumed it was the Pepper-approved Physical Therapist or Pepper herself—and the call ended abruptly.

Bruce let out a sigh in the silence that followed. The call didn't solve the problem he'd been gnawing on, not that he expected it to, but it at least served to distract Bruce long enough to calm down a little.

But of course, Bruce couldn't go through life without self-sabotage. For he soon found himself evaluating how well he was doing as a surrogate father. He decided he was doing better than Brian Banner by virtue of not using his fists on Steve, which really wasn't something worth writing home about.

Bruce spent the rest of that morning inside his head. Then at around noon, Bruce got a text message from Jane inviting him and Steve for lunch and shop talk. It took him far too many minutes to comprehend what Jane was even asking, mentally on a different galaxy as he was, so Steve came over to see why Bruce was staring at his phone vacantly for so long.

"Oh, Dr. Foster and Thor wants to see us," said Steve, leaning in to read from behind.

Bruce felt Steve's chest against his back, and absently wondered if he should categorize them as pecks or boobs. "Wanna go?"

"Of course," said Steve brightly. Again, Bruce had to wonder if the cheer was genuine or Steve was making an effort to save him from his brooding.

The address Jane forwarded brought them to a hole-in-the-wall chip shop. There they found Thor eating the owners out of their business and Jane nibbling distractedly on a single thick-cut fry. Bruce had to blink a few times to accept that, yes, Thor really was dressed like an ordinary earthling: red jacket, white shirt, and jeans. Seriously.

"Friends!" Thor boomed, around a mouthful of fried fish. "Greetings!"

"Hi, Thor," said Steve, eyeing the small mountain of food on Thor and Jane's table with interest. "Fish and chips?"

Thor grinned. "'Tis simple fare, but entirely delicious. Come, join us in feasting."

They sat down. Steve dug in without hesitation.

"No waiting this time?" Bruce asked.

"The day I can't eat fish and potatoes is the day my Mam rises from the grave, just to shame me to death," said Steve in what Bruce assumed was early 1900's Irish Brogue, with a dash of Brooklyn. It made Bruce think about how he could collect and categorize the accent, words, and phrases in order to build a dictionary on the subject (clearly he was irredeemably mad).

"It is good to see you partake food this time, friend Steven," said Thor.

"I wanted to, back in Manhattan," said Steve sheepishly. "But I could only digest liquids at the time."

"Thawing does a number on your tummy, huh," said Jane.

"Oh yeah," Bruce said fervently.

"You are still wounded," Thor observed. "I felt the healing magic upon you the first time we met. It lingers on you still, incomplete."

There was a beat.

"Wait, magic?" Bruce blurted. "What magic?"

"Ooh, is it like the Soul Forge?" asked Jane excitedly. "That's what they called a Quantum Field Generator, in Asgard."

" _What?!_ " Bruce exclaimed.

Thor smiled at Jane fondly.

"Close, but not quite. There are times when a person's very essence, the soul as it were, is wounded and requires healing only deep magic can bring. I am no mage, but the magic that was cast upon Steven feels very much like the deep magic that brought Huginn and Muninn to being … that is, Thought and Memory."

Bruce gripped the table.

"Steve suffered retrograde amnesia. Like Jason Bourne."

This time, it was Jane who shouted, " _What?_ "

"Who's Jason Bourne?" Thor and Steve asked, almost in sync.

"He's a fictional spy who lost all his memories from a boat explosion," Bruce explained. "There's a novel. And a movie. It's pretty good. Matt Damon's in it."

"Who's Matt Damon?" Steve asked curiously.

Bruce rubbed his face. "Some actor guy. Anyway, Steve suffered memory loss, as a result of a traumatic head injury. Thor, are you saying you think _magic_ was involved in Steve's memory recovery _?_ "

"Yes," said Thor, as though he was stating the earth's sky was blue. "But there is a roughness to it. It feels as though it was done in haste and left unfinished. Magic left so can put a strain on the body. Mayhap that is the cause of Steven's stomach ailments?"

"Who knows. I do know it's been going on for over four months and counting, and that's way too long," Bruce growled. "Sorry for my tone. I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around _magic_."

"Yeah, this is on a different domain and scale than the Soul Forge," Jane grumbled. "Biology. _Ugh_."

"Did the Son of Coul or Son of Fury not know you were ill?" Thor asked, frowning at Steve. "If you were one of my own, Captain, I would have hesitated to send you to battle."

Steve did a little shrug. "They knew, but it was an emergency and I was operational."

Thor's expression darkened.

"Why do you regard yourself as a thing to be used, Steven? You are a warrior, and, though unacknowledged as such here in Midgard, a King. Have you not been taught the way of warriors?"

Steve's blank stare was answer enough. To be truthful, Bruce thought the 'way of warriors' went the way of disco as of WWI; before even Steve was born.

"One does not become a warrior lightly, Steven," said Thor solemnly. "Besides the responsibility that comes with it, in order to become a warrior, tried and true, one must change in ways that cannot be reversed. Your entire life will be defined by it, even if you retire from the battlefield."

"Once a soldier, always a soldier," Steve murmured.

"Indeed," Thor said. "A warrior must know how to prepare for battle, how to engage in battle, and know how and when to end them. Know to celebrate victories, mourn losses, remember loved ones while away, and know how to return home. To have that which you cherish more than your own life, such that you are willing to forfeit your life so you may protect it. Have you learned these, Steven?"

Steve was quiet for a long beat.

"… No one taught me, but I picked up those lessons along the way," Steve said slowly. "I just … never got the chance to mourn my old friends. Or go back home."

Jane covered her mouth. Bruce looked down at his lap. His throat felt tight.

"You cannot go back to the home you once belonged to, and for that, I am very sorry," said Thor gently. "But you can mourn the shield-siblings you have lost. Now please answer me, Scion of Rogers: have you found a place you can now call home?"

Steve glanced at Bruce almost immediately. Bruce could barely breathe when Steve smiled.

" _Yes_."

Thor laughed and clapped an enormous hand on Steve's shoulder.

"That I am delighted to hear!" he cried. "Now let us light a funeral pyre for your old comrades, you and I, and bid them farewell as you ought!"

"That might get us arrested," said Steve. "But, hell. Why not?"

oooo

As it happened, arranging a Viking funeral for long dead WWII heroes on short notice was neither practical nor advisable. In a clear sign Fury had them bugged (at least he arranged to have bugs planted on them post-Convergence), Agent Maria Hill called and strongly warned Steve against anything related to bond fires. Thor was very upset.

"What about those little lantern boats?" Darcy suggested, while Thor fumed. "I saw 'em on TV. It's supposed to represent sending your dead to the next world or something."

"That's … actually a great idea," said Steve, wide-eyed. "Thank you, Darcy."

They spent that afternoon making lantern boats. Darcy and Ian folded paper boats out of newspapers, and Bruce modified the sail so a tealight candle could fit snuggly in the center. Steve attached paper screens on the paper boats. Each screen had a name written on it in Steve's beautiful cursive.

"Tell me about your fellow warriors from before, Steven," Thor said, as he watched Steve write ' _Dum Dum_ '.

Steve blinked as though in remembrance.

"Most of my time in ETO, that's European Theater of Operations, I was attached to the Howling Commandos," Steve began. "We were a rag-tag team. Two weren't even American. I met them in Austria when I stormed my first Hydra base."

Steve gestured the six lantern boats set apart from the others.

"James Montgomery Falsworth; he was the last survivor of His Majesty's 3rd Independent Parachute Brigade. We called him Monty. Jacques Dernier; he was a member of the French Resistance before he joined us. Bucky Barnes, Timothy Dugan, Gabriel Jones, and James Morita. Me. We were the Americans. They got buried in Arlington after they died."

"The Howling Commandos was the first integrated unit," Darcy piped. "I learned that in US political history. My major actually taught me something. Fancy that."

Bruce remembered from his own US history lessons from high school that Bucky Barnes was the only Howling Commando to give his life in the battlefield. The Captain America Meta text said his empty grave was in Arlington Cemetery, next to Steve's own empty grave.

"Did they ever find Barnes' body?" Bruce asked.

"I don't think so," said Steve. "I … wish I could bury him properly. Must be cold and lonely up there, in the Alps."

Bruce found it very difficult to breathe. Ian and Darcy shuffled awkwardly.

Thor regarded Steve. There was something both otherworldly and knowing about his gaze.

"Were you two close?" he asked.

Steve didn't reply, but wrote on the lantern screen labeled ' _Bucky Barnes'_ in blocky print letters: 

 

 

> _Jerk_
> 
> _Biggest Idiot in Brooklyn_
> 
> _Took all the stupid with him_

 

Steve paused to sniffle.

"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."

Then, in cursive, Steve added: 

 

 

> _My best friend_
> 
> _I miss you so much_

oooo

Steve wrote down the names of the other Captain Americas on the rest of the lantern boats.

"I didn't even know there were other Captain Americas. I thought you were the only one," said Darcy.

"It's a common misconception," Steve said wryly.

"What happened to them?" Ian asked.

"Grant and Michael were killed in action," said Steve, with a sad, twisted smile. "Jeffery Mace and Isaiah Bradley died of early dementia. A sniper got Bill Naslund and James Walker." A pause. "Willie Burnside and Jack Monroe went AWOL. We never found them. Rumor has it, they defected to Russia."

"They were traitors, and yet you still mourn them," Thor remarked.

"The serum made them mentally unstable," said Steve quietly. "They deserved a hospital, not a prison."

It was nightfall when all the boats were ready. Bruce and Steve put on jackets and scarves to stave off the night chill. Thor carefully loaded the paper boats in the trunk of the Mini Cooper and then squeezed himself in the back.

Jane, Ian, and Darcy deigned not to join. Was it because they recognized this was a moment only for those who suffered loss from war? Bruce couldn't say. He certainly couldn't say for certain if Steve found closure when they lit fourteen candles set upon paper lantern boats and gently set them on the River Thames.

Yet as he watched Steve gaze upon the fourteen points of light, bobbing slowly away, Bruce fancied he could see the weight of Steve's past finally ease.

oooo

Steve visited Monty Falsworth's grave the next day. This was quickly followed by an overnight trip to France, so Steve could lay a wreath on the memorial that had Jacques Dernier's name. Bruce joined Steve for the latter, which was how he got to witness Steve meet a few of Dernier's grandchildren. Bruce felt like an intruder as he listened to Steve speak French to his old teammate's descendants.

"Do you need more time with Dr. Foster?" Steve asked Bruce on their train ride back to England.

"This vacation is mostly for you, it's your call," Bruce said. "I can always call or email her, stateside."

"Some things are best done in person," said Steve firmly. "And I don't have anywhere else I want to go, except maybe Arlington."

"You're ready to go home?" said Bruce.

Steve nodded. "Been ready since Normandy."

Bruce requested three more days. Steve spent them mostly in Thor's company. Bruce wasn't sure what the two were up to. Most of the time, he found them sparing or eating disgusting things (like scrambled eggs, tomato sauce on buckwheat noodles; _ugh_ ). Other times, he found Steve and Thor conversing in a strange language that might have been the Asgardian Tongue (Norse?) or 1940's Deutsch/German.

Bruce found reasons to believe it was Asgardian when he and Steve debriefed Fury over a secure phone.

"So Thor plans to stay on Earth for a while," Fury muttered, sounding as though he blamed Steve for this. "Now about that ten-page essay you sent me…"

"I asked Thor a bunch of questions. I thought the answers may interest you," Steve replied.

"It does, very much," Fury said. "Can you get more on the military capacity of each alien civilization, or did you ask that already?"

"Latter. I've got two people who have doctorates in astrophysics to ask questions, but all I managed to get is: _they have magic_." Steve winked at Bruce. "It very possible I don't have even the basic physics knowledge to understand their answers."

Fury groaned. "Fair enough. Good work, Rogers. Now go back to recovery mode, or help me I'll…"

"Yes, sir," said Steve, grinning.

Bruce and Steve laughed uproariously after the call ended.

"You punk," Bruce said affectionately.

"Been one since 1938," said Steve, shrugging. "Can't seem to help it."

"Hey, it's very fitting Earth's real king is a giant punk."

"Ohmygosh stop it," Steve groaned.

"Nope, never," said Bruce. "I will, in fact, inform Tony, and that will guarantee you'll never hear the end of it."

Steve face-palmed.

"Jerk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one really didn't fit either Dark World or CAWS, so it ended up being called the real Interlude. Lots of hints are in here. *wink*wink*


	9. The Winter Soldier, Part 1

Bruce and Steve returned to the States after spending two days hitting all the tourist traps in London. Tony was waiting for them at the airport when they disembarked his private plane. He was wearing sweatpants, an unzipped hoodie, black T-shirt and aviator glasses.

"Hello, Banners," Tony intoned. "Welcome to the United States of America. Before anything, I want to show you something."

He thrust out his chest, where one could see the arc reactor was notable in its absence. _Oh, Tony_ , Bruce thought fondly.

Steve smiled. "Hi, Tony. How do you feel?"

"Like a new man," Tony replied. "Like I've turned over a new leaf. Seeing the light. All that good stuff. Speaking of which: Steve, the file you sent. Why would you do this to yourself? The only reason why anyone would write a ten-page paper for pleasure if it's a pseudo-scholarly article a fan wrote for their fandom."

Steve stared at Tony for a beat. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"Do you know what you can do when you're waiting for your heart to finish healing after reconstruction surgery?" Tony asked. "Not a lot, that's what. When I'm not in physical therapy, I do a lot of internet surfing. So, fandoms. There exist in the Internet communities of people who love certain stories or people, cannot get enough of them, and so they make up more stuff based on the original content. Tolkien. Star Trek. Star Wars – you're gonna watch that, by the way – etc, etc. _I've seen things_ , Steve, and they cannot be unseen."

Steve nodded slowly. Bruce fiercely debated within himself whether he should warn Steve the Internet was a cesspool of pornography and other disturbing content.

"So fandom is like a Holmesian club, only online?" Steve asked.

"Oh, god, you're a member, aren't you," Tony groaned.

"Bucky and I made a Sherlock Holmes club when we were kids," said Steve, looking wistful. "We had three members: me, Bucky and this kid named Arnie. Four, when we made Bucky's sister Becca join."

"You had a sad childhood, and I'm so glad you grew out of it," said Tony empathically. "But seriously, why an essay? You could've used bullet points."

Steve shrugged. "I figured it would be good practice. Darcy said there's a lot of essay writing in college."

Tony grumbled something about f#^% overachievers. "So when are you gonna expand on the technology and science of Asgard? Because you have to, for the advancement of Earthling science. How are you and Thor gonna communicate?"

"Jane's intern, Ian, set up Thor to have a … Gmail, I think it's called?" Steve said. "And Jane has Skype."

"Does Thor know to use these things?" Tony asked.

"We practiced sending each other emails," Steve replied.

Tony's eyes went wide. "Please tell me someone recorded the whole thing."

"Jane's other intern might've," said Bruce, making a mental note to ask Darcy.

"Oh, goodie. Now enough about essay writing. _Steve_ ," Tony's eyes gleamed, "You've still got two and half months of medical leave. What are your plans?"

"You know I haven't got any, Tony," Steve said, both exasperated and amused.

"Excellent," said Tony. "Steve. Entertain me. I'm _bored_."

"I can barely entertain myself. How can I entertain you?" Steve asked.

"Pepper made a schedule," said Tony, waving a hand dismissively. "So what are your thoughts on Disney?"

Steve stopped short. "The company's still around?"

"Yes, and they still make films, animated or otherwise," Tony said, looking gleeful. "You're interested. I can see the interest in you. Oh yes, I do. So first things first: _Star Wars._ "

oooo

Tony drove them to his River Road mansion ("still not a house, Tony," said Steve). They went straight to the media room, where Tony stopped short at the sight of a blonde woman who could either be a physical therapy nurse or a physical trainer of the drill sergeant variety.

"Oh, c'mon!" Tony whined.

"You're not getting out of this, Mr. Stark," said the PT nurse/Trainer, arms crossed.

"You are not allowed to watch Star Wars without me!" Tony shouted vehemently, while the PT nurse/Trainer person dragged him away. "JARVIS put up something else!"

"As you wish, sir," said JARVIS. "Is there anything you wish to see, Captain?"

"Any recommendations?" Steve asked, bemused.

"How about _101 Dalmatians_? It's an animated Disney film from 1961, acclaimed for its artistry and storyline."

Tony furiously made beckoning gestures at Bruce while Steve studied the list of Disney movies that postmarked _Snow White_. Bruce, who wasn't really in the mood to watch children movies, followed.

And ended up in Tony's state-of-the-art exercise room. The PT nurse/trainer (whom Bruce decided to call Helga in his head) set Tony to jog twenty minutes. Tony requested privacy and pointed at Bruce as a means to convince he wasn't going to skimp. In the end, [Helga] relented.

"Okay, so," Tony said while jogging slowly on a treadmill. "I picked up on Steve's memory loss, just like you asked. Gave me several sleepless nights, I'll have you know."

"Thanks, Tony," said Bruce. "So what have you found?"

"Not much," said Tony, scowling. "Which is itself troubling. But again, Steve being alive was a surprise. Gotta remember that. So, anything that happened after discovering Steve may have been an exercise in improv. That doesn't explain the lack of records. So we must ask: Why hide it? Were those involved in the defrosting knew? What's going on here?"

There was a period of silence while Tony jogged, huffing and puffing, and Bruce recalled what happened when he first met Steve.

"Fury wanted to make sure people knew Steve was Captain America," Bruce said slowly. "The first fight with Loki in Germany. That was very public. The uniform SHIELD made for Steve was super eye-catching … not that Steve wore it. He'd want Steve to have the power and skills to back it up."

"Yep. Even if Fury didn't want to create a public spectacle – and I'm not sure how serious he's about the Commander Rogers and Captain Rogers divide – he'd still want to make sure he got a believable Captain America," Tony said. "Speaking of which, I'm not sure if Fury was looking for a Captain America in general or Steve in specific. The official records say 'Captain America' put down the Hydra bomber to the Arctic in 1945, but it doesn't say who."

"It wouldn't have been that hard to figure out," said Bruce. "The Rogers brothers were KIA. Naslund and Walker were also KIA. Mace and Bradley were institutionalized in the sixties, and Burnside and Monroe went AWOL in 1944. That leaves just Steve."

Tony stared at Bruce. "The other Caps weren't exactly newsworthy, were they?"

"I think Isaiah was a fine hero. Just not as mentioned as the others because he was black," said Bruce.

Tony looked away. "So when Fury sent his search crew to Greenland, he knew he'd find Steve. Well then. That actually makes sense. There's a reason why Captain America is synonymous to Steve Rogers. Here's a lesson from Captain America my Dad pounded into me and it actually stuck: _be so good they can't ignore you_."

"But he was expecting a corpse," Bruce pointed out.

"Oh, yes, can't forget that," Tony grunted. "Now suppose you're Fury. You just found a real Captain America, alive. Not just any Captain America, but reputably the best one. What would you want? You'd want his battle skills, tactical abilities, military leadership and so on and so forth. But above all you'd want him to be _useful_ and _cooperative_."

Bruce knew where this was going, and felt sick.

"And would Fury," Bruce said slowly, "resist the temptation to break Captain America?"

Tony grunted. "It would've been so easy. Steve would be in a fragile state, utterly alone, surrounded by alien tech, and strangers. Just a little push and…"

Bruce remembered Steve's words just after he'd discovered skinny-Steve: ' _I have to_ – _go back to SHIELD._ ' The resignation in Steve's tone, which had scared him before, now took in a new depth of horror.

"Now here is a thought that kept me up all night," Tony went on. "You said Thor thinks _magic_ was involved in Steve's memory recovery. Setting aside the blasphemy, and assuming when Thor talks about magic, it's science far too advanced for us mere earthlings – and it better be! – then I don't think we're dealing with the normal brainwashing techniques here. This is something far beyond that. I mean hamburgers in 1940. Sherlock Holmes geekery. You wouldn't add details like that when you remake someone for field ops, would you? Then there's the so-far proving to be very genuine notes from Dr. Erskine himself. Now if a method that allows you to recover whole swaths of personal memory exists, then isn't possible for you to _implant_ a dead person's memories to someone else?"

"You'd be able to make a true double, if you 'wipe' a person's memory before you implant someone else's," said Bruce, with growing horror. "So it possible Steve waking up in a salt bath was not the first time waking up. Or the Steve we know may not be the original Captain America at all."

Tony grunted again. "Personally, I don't really care if we have the real Captain America or not. I like our Steve just fine. But I would have lots of issues if Steve is a genetically enhanced kid SHIELD rescued from Weapon X – the old mutant manufacturing hellhole – and brainwashed him into believing he's Captain America."

"Ohmygod," Bruce moaned.

"Naturally I had JARVIS run about kazillion facial recognition software," Tony said. "All the good ones rated Steve's face and eyes as 85%-95% match to that of Major Steve Rogers, of team Captain America. Mine own eyes see they are likely the same person. I still haven't ruled out genetically enhanced clone or test tube descendant. To check that, we're gonna have to look for identifying marks, scars and dental. The challenge of this, of course, is how we are going to find that kind of info. I don't think SHIELD has it."

"There isn't anyone alive who knew Steve from before and can, is there?" said Bruce, heart sinking.

"There is one, actually," said Tony. "Margaret Carter. She's one of Dad's old friends from WWII."

"Are you talking about former SHIELD director Carter?" Bruce asked.

"The one and only," Tony said. "My old man and she were the original founders of SHIELD. Of course, no one _told me_ that…"

Bruce decided not to ask why. Tony was very touchy about his father. "She must be in her nineties."

"Ninety, exactly," Tony confirmed. "She's in a retirement home in Virginia. Seems to have memory problems. Could be Alzheimer's, could be Dementia. Oh, and Steve and her had a thing, back in the day, or so SHIELD legend goes. I don't think Steve visited her, yet. Anyway, something to do, maybe, when they're both having a good day."

Bruce looked down at his feet.

"In summary, it all comes down this: what kind of memory restoration process did Steve go through and why that? We gotta find that out," Tony wiped his sweaty forehead. "So what first? Visit former Director Carter or memory restoration specialist?"

"We should ask Steve," Bruce said.

Tony grunted. "Good point."

Tony eventually finished his twenty-minute jog. When they returned to the media room, Bruce and Tony found Steve watching a studio Ghibli film. Steve looked riveted as the screen showed the Ainu Prince character (Bruce forgot his name) traveled through a breathtakingly beautiful forest, with a white bone spirit acting as his guide.

"Jay, how did Steve end up picking _Princess Mononoke_? Not that it's bad taste," Tony asked.

"Captain Rogers requested a film where the girls are strong, and the ladies are fierce," JARVIS replied.

Bruce and Tony looked at each other. "Huh," Bruce said.

Tony took a picture of the scene. Then he tweeted on his Iron Man account:

_Miyazaki-san, Captain America thinks your films are swell because the girls are strong and the ladies are fierce._

oooo

Tony and Bruce joined Steve in watching _Princess Mononoke_. Bruce wasn't sure what was going through either Tony or Steve's minds as they did so. For his part, Bruce spent most of the time thinking how to tactfully raise the question of visiting former Director Carter or the memory restoration specialist. Both seemed emotionally fraught, and Bruce wasn't sure which was the lesser of two evils.

There was a laden silence after the movie was over.

"I have to go out," said Steve, after a beat.

"Where?" asked Tony.

"Arlington Cemetery."

"Wanna get some flowers while you're at it?" Tony asked.

Steve nodded. "Yes, please."

So they went. Steve took the time to pick different kinds of bouquets at the florist. As he watched Steve lay them on the graves of long dead friends, looking brittle, Bruce thought there was no way he could possibly bring up the subject of Peggy Carter without feeling like a villain and a murderer.

Steve was laying a bundle of pink flowers on Bucky Barnes' grave (Bruce could only identify the tea roses and carnations; and though he couldn't claim he knew the language of flowers, he did have to wonder if their inclusion was a joke), when Bruce noticed a tall, built and dark man wearing a black leather jacket, cargo pants and combat boots approaching. Bruce could tell from the purposefulness of his stride that the man was a SHIELD agent who knew about Steve's skinny mode.

"Do you SHIELD agents have no sense of decency?" Tony groused when the man stopped. "Can you at least let us pretend like we're not under 24-7 surveillance?"

"Would it make you feel better if I said meeting you here is a coincidence?" the man asked.

"It would if I could actually believe you,' Tony retorted.

"Suit yourself, Mr. Stark. Antoine Triplett," said the man to Steve. "Trip for short. My grandpa was a Howling Commando."

"Hello, Trip. Gabe, Dum Dum or Jim?" Steve asked as they shook hands.

Triplett smiled. "You know, most people assume it's Gabe Jones."

"I honestly can't tell. You resemble none of their ugly mugs," Steve said.

Triplett flashed a grin. "Yeah, I've got my grandma's good looks." Then he turned somber. "I'll go straight to the point: Aunt Peggy wants to see you."

Steve smiled ruefully. "I'm overdue, aren't I?"

"If you're any later, she's gonna personally shoot you in the face," said Triplett apologetically.

"She would. Can you tell her I don't have all my memories? That I might've forgotten some really important stuff?" Steve said.

"She knows," said Triplett. He hesitated. "Her memories aren't altogether there, either, some days."

Steve turned sadder. Tony looked away.

"What a pair we'll make," Steve said.

oooo

In the end, Tony did the smart (read: cowardly) thing and asked Pepper to handle the situation. Pepper obliged when she heard about their concerns.

"I heard you met one of your old teammates' grandsons at Arlington Cemetery, Steve," Pepper said during their daily video-conference as though in passing (Bruce and Tony, of course, opted to spy on it shamelessly).

"Did Tony tell you? And yes," said Steve. "He didn't specify whose grandson. Probably classified information. I think Peggy sent him to kick my butt."

"Are you sure he's who he said he is?" Pepper asked.

Steve smiled wryly. "Did you know I can tell if someone's lying based on smell, heartbeat, and tone?"

"No, I didn't," said Pepper calmly. "But it's not surprising. Your heightened senses."

Steve nodded. "When a Hydra mole assassinated the scientist who developed the super-soldier serum, the formula died with him. With only nine of us available, the army didn't want to risk us all dying in a month. Senator Brandt gave us a choice: go join the USO and sell war bonds, or go to the lab. I chose lab because I'm a wretched dancer." A pause. "That's where I figured out my abilities. Peggy and I later worked out this system for interrogation. She'd get people to talk, and I'd figured out the lies from truth." Another pause. "That's how I got sent to Europe. I was useful for intelligence work."

"The world must be so different for you," Pepper remarked.

"I have a deep appreciation of the world dogs must inhabit," Steve confirmed.

Tony mumbled something about elephants. Bruce, on the other hand, wondered if Steve could detect other human emotions based on smell and sound, and freaked out a little.

"Tell me more about Peggy," said Pepper. "You mention her a lot. She sounds like a wonderful person."

"She was amazing," here Steve smiled like someone who missed a loved one so much one could hardly breathe. "One thing I love about this century is hardly anyone questioning you for having women teammates. Peggy, she was braver and more talented than ten men, but I couldn't convince the brass to let her join us. Colonel Phillips said I cashed in all my favors when I asked for Gabe and Jim. She helped us, anyway."

Steve went on to talk about several of Peggy Carter's exploits during WWII at great length and enthusiasm. Bruce could almost picture her in his mind-eye after the first: a beautiful British woman soldier, with coiffed hair and perfect makeup, shooting a machine gun at Nazis.

"So when are you going to visit her?" Pepper asked.

"This coming Saturday if she's doing well," said Steve softly.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"I can't … you're so busy," Steve protested.

"I'll ask Bruce, then," said Pepper. "If you need company, that is."

Steve sighed. It didn't sound like reluctance, but more like relief. "Okay, and yes."

" _Perfect,_ " Tony muttered fervently while he and Bruce fled the scene. "She's perfect, I'm telling you."

"Yes, Tony, Pepper is perfect," Bruce agreed.

oooo

Unlike Tony, Bruce had to actually deal with accompanying Steve to visit Peggy Carter, who may or may not have been the love of Steve's life. He rather hoped Steve would decide to take the trip alone, but in the end, Steve asked for his company, so that was that.

Steve was silent during the trip. Bruce played awful 80s and 90s music to keep the melancholy air at bay. By the tail-end of their drive, Steve was in full Captain America mode, and there was nothing Bruce could do to change that.

The retirement home Peggy Carter resided in was a cozy and friendly place. Her grown daughter, Sarah Porter nee Carter, was there to greet them and lead Steve to her mother's room.

"She's having a good day," said Sarah, and it struck Bruce she must be old enough to be Steve's mother, physically speaking. "I'm so glad you could finally make it, Captain."

"Sorry it took me so long," Steve muttered.

Sarah smiled sadly. "You're here. That's enough."

They stopped at a door. Steve stared at it like it was the gates of hell.

"I'll wait outside," said Bruce.

Steve paled and swallowed. "Please stay?"

Bruce sighed. "Okay."

Steve eventually opened the door with shaking hands and stepped inside. Bruce followed and saw the very old woman lying on the bed.

There was silence for a span. It was as though the whole world was collectively holding its breath.

" _Peggy_ ," Steve rasped, at last.

"Steve," Peggy whispered.

The two stared at each other for another long beat. This time, it was Carter who broke the impasse:

"Oh, do sit down, you silly thing."

Bruce quickly backed himself into a corner and willed himself to vanish as Steve stumbled towards the chair next to Peggy's bed. Once seated, Steve switched between staring at Peggy in wonder and disbelief, and at the little knick-knacks around her room. Steve finally settled on gazing at the family photos that featured a younger Peggy with two children, a boy and a girl, and a man.

"Never thought I'd do something so ordinary," Peggy said, also looking at the photos.

"You should be proud of yourself," said Steve softly.

"Mmn. I've lived a life. My only regret is that you didn't get to live yours," Peggy looked at Steve. "What is it?"

Steve put on a sad half-smirk. "Can't help but think I disappointed you."

"What is this self-deprecating talk?" Peggy chided. "Look, you saved the world. We rather … mucked it up."

"You didn't," Steve said. "Knowing you helped found SHIELD is half the reason why I stay."

"And what is the other half?"

Steve smirk turned sadder. "Lack of imagination."

Peggy chuckled. "Now you're being dramatic. Should I blame this to brain damage or Howard's son?"

"Neither. Both. Who knows," Steve let out a shuddering breath. "That's what scares me. I _forgot_ , Peggy, and I don't think I'll ever fully remember."

Peggy clutched Steve's hand. "I would've been surprised and suspicious if you came out unscathed," she said. "Now as one person who has forgotten and is forgetting far more than she ought to another: am I as you remember me to be?"

Steve just stared, lips parted.

"I should not," said Peggy seriously. "Time has changed me, for better or worse, though I'd like to think my basic character is the same."

"It is," Steve said earnestly.

"Then there you have it," said Peggy. "You are not your remembered past, Steve. You are the content of your character. The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes, the best that we can do is to start over."

Peggy started to cough. Steve turned over to get her some water and handed to her a glass.

"Peggy?" said Steve.

Peggy Carter stared as though she was seeing Steve for the first time. Like the last five minutes had never occurred.

"Steve?" she said with frank disbelief.

"Yeah," said Steve.

"You're alive!" Peggy cried, "You … you came. You came back!"

"Yeah, Peggy," said Steve as Peggy began to cry.

"It's been so long," she said brokenly. " _So long_."

"I'm so sorry," said Steve, on the verge of tears as well.

Bruce fled the room. He couldn't handle it anymore.

He eventually ended in the lobby, seated in the corner with his face in his hands. To his mortification, Bruce burst into anguished sobs. He was still sniffling and congested a bit when he answered Tony's call.

"Bruce?" said Tony, thoroughly alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"It's … I can't do this," Bruce said miserably. "I'm sorry, but this is a whole different level of second-hand suffering. I don't have the…"

"What? Patience?"

"Temperament," Bruce wiped his nose. "At least Peggy recognizes Steve?"

Tony sighed. "You know what? That's good enough. And oh, god, what were we thinking."

oooo

After the highly disastrous visit to Peggy Carter, both Bruce and Tony were reluctant to pursue the Memory Restoration Specialist. Pepper, of course, would have none of it.

"You're the one who started this, Tony," she said. "Finish what you've started."

"But Pep," Tony protested.

"No excuses," said Pepper sternly, "Don't you dare show up in Malibu until it's all settled."

"But it's my house," Tony muttered.

Nevertheless, Tony didn't charter a flight back to Cali but stayed with Steve and Bruce in his River Road mansion. Bruce distracted himself with analyzing the Dark Matter data collected from the Convergence, and Tony busied himself doing armor upgrades when he wasn't in Physical Therapy or haranguing Steve with movies (Steve's reaction to learning about Luke's family was duly recorded for posterity). Steve, when Bruce had the courage to look, appeared to be Skyping Thor or reading.

This state of affairs continued for some time. Before he knew it, Bruce came to himself at a godforsaken hour, surrounded by papers that bore evidence of him torturing equations to death and empty mugs of coffee, and no idea how many days had passed. He also found Tony on the floor, snoring and clutching his foot.

It was that moment Steve puttered in.

"Um," said Bruce, embarrassed beyond words.

"You study different," Steve remarked.

"I guess I do," Bruce muttered. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't really here, was I?"

"Work is the best antidote to sorrow," said Steve kindly. "So, how do you study?"

This was definitely something Bruce could talk about. He launched into what promised to be a lengthy lecture on creating mental constructs, the quiz-and-recall method, and the importance of 'Deep Study'. In his enthusiasm, he accidentally kicked Tony.

"It's all based on the idea everything is connected, follow a logical sequence, and ultimately interact in some way," said Bruce. "Sorry, Tony."

"No, it makes sense. Gravitational lensing can detect a force that exists between dark matter particles. Abell 3827 galaxy cluster, remember?" said Tony, snorting awake.

Bruce smiled. "Not talking about Dark Matter at the moment, but yes, I do remember."

"Oh!" Tony rolled away from under the table and beamed up at Bruce and Steve. "Good … morning? It's morning, right?"

"It's 0530, yes," said Steve, sounding both fond and exasperated.

"Ha! Nailed it. So what are we talking about?"

"How to study," said Steve simply. "Math and science are my weakness. It's not exactly like history where all you have to do is capture the big idea and narrow it down to Question, Evidence, and Conclusion."

"Well, that's true," said Tony. "Is this for college? Bruce, are you teaching Steve study hacks? Oh, the things I can tell you… "

Tony promptly gave his two cents on the matter and ended up giving fifty. Bruce was pleased to learn Tony's method of learning was not fundamentally different from his.

"I always thought the way I did math was inefficient, but now I know for sure," Steve remarked after Tony finished talking.

"You do math just fine. You wouldn't be able to use your shield the way you do otherwise," said Bruce. "But this'll help you learn stuff like Calculus and Linear Algebra."

"Would it help me understand Artificial Intelligence?" Steve asked.

"Oh, now A.I. is a different kind of beast," said Tony, lighting up like a Christmas tree. "The building blocks are simple – just a series of IF, ELSE, OR and WHILE – but how you build their decision trees is where A.I. researchers say vile things to each other. Have you been to the West Coast yet? No? Okay, then. We're going to Malibu, I'll show you my 'bots, and we'll talk about programming."

Steve looked excited at the prospect. "I'd like that."

Bruce was thinking this was a fairly sneaky way for Tony to get what he wanted without actually doing what Pepper ordered him to do, when Tony asked, as casually as you please:

"By the by, why didn't my old man and SSR do more study on your brain? Yes, he set you up to have dinner dates with Alan Turing, that's cool, but it doesn't look like he did more than that. Why? The serum gave you eidetic memory, and maybe greater processing power. We're talking about real life _Flowers for Algernon_ , here. Have you read the book yet? Anyway, why weren't they more interested in learning how far your intelligence goes?"

Steve frowned while pondering the question.

"Actually, I don't know," said Steve, at last. "Rather, I remember suspecting something, but I don't remember what I suspected."

"Why not? This is a post-serum event; after you've gained eidetic memory. You _should_ remember. If you don't, there's something wrong," Tony pressed.

Steve started to look troubled.

"I have gaps in my memory," Steve finally admitted. "The ice and impact left brain damage. Like … Jason Bourne?"

Tony did a great show of looking shocked. "Shut up. No way. You don't have flashbacks. You remember stuff about yourself in great detail. If you forgot everything like Jason Bourne, how did you recover so quickly?"

"SHIELD set me up with a memory restorationist."

"Well obviously he or she didn't do a good enough job," Tony snarked. "Who is this person? You should demand a refund or sue for malpractice."

"I don't think it works like that, Tony," said Steve patiently. "And I'm grateful that he restored most of my memories when I had none."

"You're settling. Don't do that," said Tony. "At the very least you should demand aftercare and fixes."

"I don't think I can afford him," said Steve.

"Use my card," Tony said. "No, hear me out. Call me paranoid, but when you say 'restore memories', I hear 'potentially can implant false memories'. This is entirely about me."

"I don't think you can afford him," Steve said.

"Hello. Billionaire," said Tony. "I charge SHIELD ten grand per session. How much more can this guy?"

Steve told them.

" _Good grief_!" shouted Bruce, while Tony whistled.

"And SHIELD actually fulfilled the contract?" Tony asked.

"I guess so?" said Steve uncertainly. "I always felt bad about it."

"Why should you? This is something to take pride in. Your memory is worth _millions_ , Steve. You should flaunt it."

Steve blinked at Tony for several heartbeats. Then Steve smiled at Tony with pure affection. It made Tony flail and fall on his butt.

"I'll ask Fury for his contact info," Steve said. "Me mentioning his name might give him a heart attack, tho'."

" _Good_ ," said Tony as he rubbed his chest. "Take that, Nick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap… Steve's getting into AI. Wheeeeee! :D Beta read by: warrior nun


	10. The Winter Soldier, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Warrior Nun for beta reading. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Also: A Harry Potter raised by Sherlock and John makes an appearance.

Steve’s email asking about the memory restorationist went unanswered for a whole day. This prompted Bruce and Tony to have a short and intense debate on who should yell at SHIELD for withholding important information. Bruce won the round since he had a better weapon: he speculated the reasons for the lack response, worked up a lot of head steam and then called Maria Hill.

“I’m following up on Steve’s email,” Bruce said, the moment the call connected.

“It’s classified information,” Agent Hill replied.

“Look, you people asked me to look after Steve’s health. How am I supposed to do that when you don’t even tell me about brain injuries that caused total retrograde amnesia? And no, Steve should have told me is not a valid excuse,” Bruce snapped.

There was a brief pause.

“As you are no doubt aware, doctor, SHIELD employs many medical professionals, including neurologists,” said Agent Hill. “I can’t tell you who they are and what they do unless you have the need to know.”

“And I don’t have the need to know,” said Bruce indignantly.

“No,” said Agent Hill. “You must understand what that means.”

Bruce fumed for a second. Then it dawned on him. “Thor said you used _magic_ ,” he said.

“SHIELD sometimes requires the services of magic practitioners,” Hill said without missing a beat. “We usually call Dr. Stephen Strange, who claims to be Sorcerer Supreme. He’s not the one we called for Captain Rogers, though.”

Bruce felt like he’d lost his footing in space. “So who is it?” he asked.

“We have a wizard contact. His availability is spotty due to him residing, I quote, in a different universe.”

Bruce felt a headache building. “You know a wizard from a different universe.”

“One day I’ll introduce you to Dr. Reed Richards and his work,” said Hill placidly. “But yes, a wizard from a different universe, who we got in contact with thanks to Dr. Richards. He’s here, by the way.”

“Reed Richards?” Bruce asked, startled.

“No, the wizard,” said Agent Hill. “His name is Harry.”

An hour later, Bruce, Cap-mode Steve and Tony found themselves in SHIELD HQ’s basement, to meet a dimension-hopping wizard.

oooo

Harry the Wizard turned out to be a stringy young man who had a thatch of messy salt-and-pepper hair, bright green eyes, and a jagged scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. In clear defiance of the wizard archetype, his choice of attire was dirty white converses, dark skinny jeans, grey t-shirt, navy-blue cardigan, and a black coat that ended mid-calf. After they exchanged names, Harry took out a thin wood baton from an inner coat pocket, waved it, and conjured four armchairs, a coffee table and a ceramic tea set out of thin air.

“Please, take a seat,” said Harry with a British accent. He flicked his stick – wand? – again and the teapot started to steam.

Bruce collapsed into an armchair. Steve and Tony followed suit. They all refused the tea Harry offered.

“I’m not sure where to start,” Steve said.

“Err, most people want me to prove I’m really a wizard and the magic I do isn’t a trick,” said Harry. He waved at the armchairs. “This is my proof, and usually it's enough. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

“You just violated the law of conservation of matter and energy. What more could we ask?” Tony snarked.

“I didn’t, actually, but that’s a discussion for another time,” Harry said. “So there’s really nothing?”

“No,” said Steve, and Bruce quelled the desire to shout: _No, Steve, there are a lot of things we want him to do!_ “I think you’re who you say you are. I just want to know why you’re here.”

Harry studied Steve for a moment. Then he poured himself a cup of tea (black), added a dash of sugar, and stirred the hot liquid. He then set the teaspoon on the saucer.

“I’ve been checking your world every day since SHIELD consulted me about your memory loss, Captain Rogers,” Harry began.

Bruce started and Tony flinched. “Why?” Steve asked.

“In my world, you three are comic book characters,” said Harry. “I dare say there may exist a world where there’s a series of fantasy books with my name on it. I doubt it, though. Oh, and my adoptive parents are detective story characters in yours. You might have heard of them. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “No way.”

“Yes, way.” Harry grinned. “An old mage in my world theorized a universe is the product of a cosmic storyteller’s imagination, and we cross paths when the storyteller decides to mesh worlds together.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Why are you telling us this?”

“ _Think!_ ” exclaimed Harry as he splayed his hands next to his ears. “I said you’re a comic book character in my universe. This means I can look you up and get a sense of what kind of person you are. So believe me when I say _Captain America_ losing all personal memories at such a crucial time period is too suspicious.”

“You were concerned,” said Steve.

“Very,” said Harry. “I’ve learned to distrust authority figures who think they have the power and right to manipulate people so they can create their own version of favorable future. Jury’s still out if SHIELD is one of those, but I really didn’t like the coincidence.”

“Should you be saying things like that in SHIELD’s own headquarters?” Tony drawled.

“Magic and electronics don’t like to mix,” said Harry. “I used enough magic to short out any recording equipment more sophisticated than a bell lab phone. I also added a soundproofing charm just in case.”

“So the chairs and painfully British tea aren’t just courtesy and proof. Trifecta accomplishment with one wave of a wand,” said Tony, smirking. “I like how you think, Harry.”

“Thank you,” said Harry.

“Yeah, good to know magic can stop Big Brother,” Bruce grumbled. “So why’d you restore Steve’s memories for SHIELD when you were suspicious of them?”

“First of all, no, I didn’t,” said Harry. “Not personally. I just told the head SHIELD guy what you may expect from a _genuine_ magical memory restoration. It was my first time here, so I didn’t want to mess around with spells and potions when I didn’t know anything about the magic rules of your universe. But I figured the fundamental laws are the same.”

Steve sat straighter, looking very alert. “So what did you tell him?”

“Memory is an attribute of Life,” Harry stated. “Where there is no life, there is no memory. Just data. Also, information – memory – needs a medium of storage. That medium, for personal memories, is _Life_. So when you restore memories in a person via magic, you should expect to see Life flowing out of the spell-caster and into the recipient. FYI – things are different when you merely want to view the event that formed your memories. Videos, case in point.”

“So how do you detect _life_?” Steve asked while Tony muttered: _I declare shenanigans and malarkey against science_.

“There are two things magic recognizes as storing life,” said Harry. “ _Breath_ and _Blood_. So the magic practitioner, if they know what they are doing, should A) use one of those two substances to store the memory that they wish to restore and B) give that substance to the recipient.”

“So expect a blood transfusion? Or … CPR?” asked Bruce.

“Something like that,” Harry said. “Now blood transfusions are more powerful, magically speaking, but it’s risky and you have to think about blood types. Breath is more versatile but far less powerful than blood. Its effects are also shorter-lived.”

Bruce felt his head spinning. “Okay.”

“You’re taking this better than I expected, Dr. Banner,” Harry remarked. He shot a brief glance at Tony, who had closed his eyes, plugged his ears and was muttering Calculus to himself.

“I just gave up the moment you magicked furniture into existence,” muttered Bruce. “This is way outside of my normal domain. Who am I to say?”

Harry smiled at Bruce knowingly. “Like I said before, magic can’t create something out of nothing. It can’t violate the Laws of Logic, either. Maybe one day I'll get to go over that in detail.”

Bruce had a feeling Harry’s adoptive parents were the reason why Harry knew these things.

“So what do you remember about the memory restoration process, Captain Rogers?” Harry asked, abruptly back on the previous subject.

Steve gaze turned far away at the question. Bruce couldn’t help but notice Steve’s hands were trembling.

Harry leaned forward.

“Please look at me,” he said, quiet, gentle and coaxing.

At length, Steve did so. Blue eyes met green. There was a long beat.

“What do you remember?” Harry asked again.

“There was a chair and a … spinning rim,” said Steve slowly, like the memory was being dragged out, kicking and screaming. “There was a team of doctors, and – the assistant,” Steve’s eyes grew bigger. “He breathed loudly on me a lot.”

“That’s him,” said Harry quickly. “He’s the one doing the actual restore. Do you remember his face?”

“No,” said Steve, grimacing. “They all had masks on. But he had long hair, black and curly, and he was built like a marathon runner.”

Harry sighed. “Next time I’ll bring a memory-viewing device. It works even on repressed memories, and it shows you the event as you experienced them. There won’t be any time-related distortions.”

“Thank you,” said Steve, sounding profoundly grateful.

Bruce made a mental note to read up on retrograde amnesia and episodic memory (and kicked himself for not thinking to do this earlier). Then another thought occurred to him.

“Hey, um,” said Bruce, “You don’t happen to have something that might cure stomach ailments, do you?”

“What kind of stomach ailments?” Harry asked.

“Inability to digest real food due to inappropriate freezing methods.”

“Ah,” said Harry. “For that, I’d give you a potion, but _someone_ might steal it for examination.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bruce sighed.

“And I’m not a trained healer. I always wanted to be one, though,” said Harry. He tapped his chest. “When I was nine, a mad criminal mastermind bombed the zoo I was visiting. That’s how I met Sherlock and John. They introduced me to a lot good doctors and healers after they adopted me.”

“Did you lose your family in the explosion?” Steve asked, looking concerned.

Harry set his lips to a grim line. “I was already an orphan.”

The exaggerated firmness in which Harry said those words made Bruce wonder about his living situation as a nine-year-old orphan, who may or may not have had extended family. It couldn’t have been a happy one if the way he side-stepped Steve’s question was any indication.

Suddenly, Harry beamed. “Hey, [I can try the charm that convinced me to go ahead and learn magic, if you like](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7578572/1/A-Study-in-Magic). It’s a healing charm. It won’t hurt.”

“… Okay,” said Steve, after a short beat. “Why not. It’s not like I’m getting any better.”

Bruce had his doubts, very hysterical ones, but he didn’t say anything because they were mostly based on the fact it was unknown and magic. Tony was shaking his head with great vehemence though he wasn’t actually running his mouth like he usually did. Meanwhile, Harry took out his wand again and pointed it at Steve.

“ _Vulnera Sanentur._ "

Harry repeated the incantation several times. Steve, besides a clenched jaw, didn’t look any different throughout the process.

“Feel any different?” Tony asked once Harry stopped chanting.

“Not really,” said Steve, while running a hand over the stomach area. “But I only know if something’s wrong _after_ I eat something I’m not supposed to, so.”

“Let’s try different foods when we get back,” said Bruce. “Anything you wanna try first?”

“Hamburgers,” said Steve immediately. “I want to know what the big deal is.”

Bruce chuckled. “Okay. Staple American Fast Food it is.” He looked at Harry. “Thank you for everything.”

“Any time,” said Harry. “I’ll try to come back in a week, 6pm Eastern Standard Time. No guarantees since I don’t know if there’s any time flow differences between your world and mine.”

“I don’t want to be such a bother,” Steve protested.

“You’re not. You’re really not,” Harry said firmly. “Call Dr. Richards. He’ll be able to tell you when I’m here.” Suddenly he smacked himself. “Ugh, _stupid_! I don’t know his number or address. You better company me. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” said Steve, chuckling. “So how are we going to get there?”

“Magic flying broomstick.”

“ _Really_?!” Bruce, Steve, and Tony exclaimed.

“No, I wish,” Harry grimaced. “Apparition. It’s like teleportation. I don’t care for it. Magical transport in my world is rarely pleasant. Do you still want to go?”

“Are you kidding me?” said Bruce, who was so giddy he was ready to jump up and down. “I am NOT going to let the chance to teleport go by.”

Harry smirked. “What about you, Mr. Stark?”

“Do you recommend teleportation to people who went through major heart reconstruction surgery?”

“No.”

“Oh, well,” Tony shrugged. “I’ll still take the chance. Had to ask just so I can tell Pepper that I did.”

This time, Harry rolled his eyes. “On your grave, Mr. Stark. Okay, everyone, hold on tight…”

oooo

It turned out, Harry was understating the unpleasantness of magical teleportation. One moment, Bruce was clutching one of Harry’s arms. Next moment, everything turned black and Bruce felt incredible pressure from all sides. It was like he was being shoved into a very tight tube.

Then, just as suddenly, he was at a different place. Bruce staggered into Steve and did everything he could to stop himself from upchucking his breakfast.

“That was the worst,” Bruce groaned, while Steve rubbed his back.

“Sorry, but I did warn you,” said Harry. He paused. “Eh, looks like you really shouldn’t Apparate when you had major heart reconstruction surgery. Mr. Stark passed out cold.”

“Is he alright?” Steve asked, alarmed.

“He will be,” said Harry, calmly. “Hello, everyone. Sorry, I brought some guests.”

Bruce heard four different voices while he waited for his stomach to settle with his eyes closed. Three male, and one woman. He heard the names Reed Richards, Susan Richards, Johnny Storm, and Ben Grimm. He also heard the name ‘Fantastic Four’.

“You must be Captain America,” said a man, sounding like he had just encountered a mythical animal.

“Steve Rogers,” said Steve, shifting to shake hands while still running a comforting palm up and down Bruce’s spine.

“Charmed,” said the same man. “You know, this is the first time I’ve seen Harry use his brand of teleportation. He mentioned it, but would never demonstrate. My detectors got virtually no heat readings, and only minimum electromagnetic field disturbances. What exactly was your experience? Oh, I’m also deeply interested in your body enhancements. Could I possibly take a tiny little blood sample from you?”

The moment he heard the words ‘blood sample’, Bruce stood straight to tell the man: NO. Hell no, over my not-able-to-kill body, no. The words died right inside in his mouth, however, the moment he took in his surroundings.

He was in an enormous lab that appeared to be equipped with a Fission Reactor at the bare minimum. The computers were definitely state of the art and specialized in analyzing subatomic particles. Bruce then saw the Hadron Collider and let out a moan of longing.

“This is Dr. Bruce Banner,” said Steve, sounding amused and affectionate. “I don’t think he recommends Harry’s teleportation method.”

“Nope,” said Bruce, still staring at the Hadron Collider.

At length, Bruce tore his eyes away from the Hadron Collider and paid attention to the people around him. He had wonder about his eyes as Steve introduced him to the ‘Fantastic Four’, as Reed Richards and his group seemed to call themselves. For one thing, Ben Grimm looked like a humanoid being made of rocks, and Johnny Storm, a blond young man who had a cocksure grin, kept bursting into flames on cue.

“Ben calls himself The Thing,” said Susan Richards, Reed Richards’ wife, and Johnny Storm’s older sister, Bruce was given to understand. “And Johnny is the Human Torch.”

“Nice,” said Bruce, nonplussed. “What about you two?”

Susan could turn invisible and create force fields and Reed could stretch like rubber (“Remind me to show you _the Incredibles_ , Steve,” Bruce mumbled). Apparently, Richards had heard about Bruce’s anti-electrons research from years back because Bruce soon found himself roped into talking about cosmology and space travel.

“My main interest is interstellar exploration,” said Reed, as he focused on a computer screen. “I never expected my research to expand to include interdimensional travel, which is not the same thing.”

“So what kind of world do we live in?” Bruce asked.

“An omniverse composed of a set of multiverses,” Reed replied. “I don’t know what triggers or differentiates each multiverse, except the worlds within the same set are very similar in its human composition.”

“Is that the only difference?” Bruce asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Reed, tapping a chin. “Harry’s world, for example, is likely outside of the multiverse set we reside in. The rules that dictate interdimensional travel within a set either do not to apply to his universe or set-to-set travel is different from intra-set travel because Harry completely bypasses the need to cross the interdimensional transverse event horizon, and can waltz in here whenever he likes, wherever he likes.”

“False,” said Harry, as he put a cold wet towel on the still passed out Tony’s face. “[I can only access _closets_ , and only if this world is what I’m most curious about](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10109481/1/The-Closet-of-Possibility).”

“Like Narnia,” said Johnny Storm.

“Kinda,” said Harry. “When you step into the Professor’s coat closet, you know you’re gonna end up in Narnia. _I_ have no guarantee where I’ll end up when I walk through my cleaning supply closet.”

“That makes no sense,” Reed exclaimed, and Bruce agreed with him.

“It’s magic, Reed,” said Susan patiently.

“Magic is just science from a different dimension we do not understand yet,” Reed insisted.

“The world is not only made of things that can be perceived through science,” Harry shot back. “Your love for your family, case in point.”

“Ya shoulda seen it,” said Ben Grimm, while Harry and Reed argued. “Rubber Head had his portal all fired up and ready, we’re all starin’ at it, and the guy walks outta the broom closet instead.”

That moment, they heard a rooster crow. Harry took out a black, nondescript cellphone and put it to his ear.

“Hey, Julia,” said Harry to the phone. “I’m in Marvel Universe right now. Yeah, I met Captain America, Iron Man, and Dr. Bruce Banner this time. Banner doesn’t look like Edward Norton, Captain America looks like the guy who played Johnny Storm in the 2006 movie, and Tony Stark really does look like Robert Downey Jr.”

Bruce and Steve stared at Harry. Then they looked at the Fantastic Four.

“Apparently we’re all in comic books that got made inta’ movies in his universe,” said Ben, shrugging.

“He mentioned that,” Bruce muttered. “Found anyone in our universe corresponding to Harry?”

“No,” said Susan. “Hence the reason why Reed thinks he’s from a different multiverse set. He _looks_ like the main character in _Books of Magic_ , but Tim Hunter doesn’t have Harry’s scar, and the magic they use have a different flavor. Harry’s reminds me more of Merlyn’s magic in _The Sword in the Stone._ ”

Bruce nodded numbly. Steve, on the other hand, took out a small notebook and started scribbling.

“Sorry, gotta dash, Mr. Lestrade wants me in the office right now,” said Harry, as he put his phone away.

“You know Inspector Lestrade,” said Steve, wide-eyed.

Harry nodded. “Chief Inspector now. He has also five children and is good at football.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and it’s _real_ football, not your odd American pastime that has the same name,” Harry shrugged. “Not that I care either way. I’m a rugby fan. Anyway, afternoon. See you in a week.”

Harry click-winked at them, and then marched over to a door that had yellow caution tape all over its frame. He opened the door, which was ajar, walked right in, and closed the door behind him. Immediately, Reed Richards stretched his arm out several feet and opened the door again. The shallow closet beyond the door revealed nothing but a couple of sweeper brooms, a mop and a can of Lysol.

“One day,” Reed muttered, “ _One day_ I’m going to figure out how he does that.”

oooo

The Fantastic Four invited Bruce, Steve and Tony (who woke up some time after Harry left) for lunch. Ben Grimm took them to the roof of the Baxter Building and fired up the grill when Tony revealed Steve had never eaten a hamburger before (“Now don’t confuse the old man. He calls them Salisbury Steak Sandwiches,” said Tony). That was how the seven of them, plus Reed and Susan’s two young children, ended up talking about the superhero business over burgers and fries.

“So you guys have been active since the new millennium,” said Steve, while waiting to see if the burger would stay down. “How did you gain your powers?”

“Abnormal levels of cosmic ray bombardment outside of the earth’s atmosphere, triggering genetic mutation,” Reed answered promptly. “There are other factors, of course, but that was the gist of it.”

“How and when did it happen?” Tony asked.

Reed went on at some length about the unauthorized space travel he, Susan, Ben, and Johnny embarked on when the Government Think Tank Reed worked for announced they were going to cancel Reed’s project. Of the entire group, Ben Grimm seemed to have gotten the worst result. Unlike the others, his rocklike appearance seemed permanent. Bruce had a moment of great sympathy over Ben and pure envy over the Richards’ lot. Reed and Susan didn’t appear to have been too adversely affected by their genetic alterations and in fact were able to have a family. _Children_. Dammit.

“So why did you decide to be superheroes?” Steve asked.

“Well, I couldn’t well go on with my life when Ben is in such a predicament,” said Reed.

“Yeah, you try finding gainful employment an’ blend into society when you look like this,” Ben growled.

“I’m sorry, I mean no offense,” said Steve apologetically. “It’s just – Dr. Richards, you’re a scientist and family man. I don’t think you’d just plunge into superheroing without some careful thought and planning.”

“That’s half correct,” said Reed. “I wasn’t married when it happened. But I needed funding and resources to find a cure for Ben. We needed time and space to master our powers, too. So I negotiated with the Government Think Tank I’ve worked for and we struck a deal. We work as agents, report to them regularly, and work on their assignments. In return, I have access to the Baxter Building, we draw a salary, and I can continue my research.”

“Is it working for you?” Bruce asked.

“I have no complaints,” said Reed, and his genuine content sparked another bout of ugly envy in Bruce. “My work in interesting, my family is provided for, and I have access to resources that I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t a government agent. We face dangers when we go on assignments, of course, but we’ve done well so far.”

“I could do with fewer assignments,” Susan said. “Especially now that we have Franklin and Valeria to consider. Some of the missions we get can really creep you out.”

“For example…?” Bruce asked.

“Sorry, can’t tell you,” said Susan stiffly. “Classified Information, need to know and all that.” She sighed. “I wish we had more help.”

“We’ll figure it out, Sue. We always do,” said Reed. “And Ben, I’m going to find that cure. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Ben quietly.

Steve studied the Fantastic Four and Richards’ two children pensively for a moment.

“Do you know of anyone else in the superhero business?” Steve asked, at length.

Johnny Storm mentioned a crime-fighting pair who wore spider-themed costumes and, like spiders, had the ability to stick to walls and shoot webbing (Bruce felt a bit faint). Ben talked about Daredevil, a man named Frank Castle and others like them who meted out vigilante justice (Bruce felt even fainter). As for Reed and Susan Richards, they mentioned the mutants.

“Who are they?” Steve asked.

“People who are born with what is called the x-gene,” said Reed. “Our son Franklin has it. That’s how we got in contact with Professor X. He runs a boarding school for mutants: Xavier Institute.”

“How does the x-gene manifest itself?” Steve asked.

“It gives you different powers,” said Reed. “Dr. Xavier can read minds, for example, and there’s a mutant who can bend metal and magnetic fields to his will. At least one mutant can manipulate fire just like Johnny here, and there’s a mutant called Wolverine who has retractable claws and an accelerated healing factor.”

Steve nodded. “Does your son go to Xavier Institute?”

“Oh, no, not yet,” said Susan. “Franklin’s only six, and Xavier only accepts children over age eleven.”

“I almost got sent there, when I was seven and it was called Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,” Tony piped. “Xavier directed my old man elsewhere, after saying I’m gifted, sure, but my gifts are not in his area of expertise.”

“I’m not sure if we’ll ever send Franklin there,” Reed mused. “Just because you have the x-gene, doesn’t mean you have to do something about it. Mutants rarely live normal lives.”

“Not all mutants join the X-Men, Reed,” said Susan.

“X-Men?” Steve asked.

“Mutant superhero team,” said Johnny. “They have serious attitude problems and they don’t play nice.”

“ _Johnny_!” Susan exclaimed, glaring at her brother. “Professor X formed the X-Men as an example of mutants acting in good faith, you know that!”

Steve looked interested.

“Please tell me if I’m wrong, but is the relationship between mutants and ordinary people … frosty?”

“That’s one way ta put it,” snorted Ben.

“You have no idea, Cap. No - freakin’ - idea,” Tony agreed. “Whoo Boy, where do we even start…”

Bruce, Reed, and Susan gave Steve a brief intro to the modern history of mutants, which, interestingly enough, started after WWII, and their struggle for public acceptance (frequently undermined by their own kind, as the Brotherhood of [Evil] Mutants repeatedly demonstrated). Then Tony talked about the X-Men.

“The X-men have been around since the Cold War,” he said. “They definitely had their heyday during the eighties. Their members changed quite a lot … not sure who’s on the roster now. There was this huge brouhaha over mutant registration after 9-11, and then there was this mutant virus pandemic that wiped out _thousands_. And since our government publically outed Xavier as a mutant, they’ve been very quiet.”

“But they’re still around?” Steve asked.

“Probably,” said Tony. “They’re really hard to kill, you know, for _reasons_.”

“So where is Xavier Institute? Would we find the X-Men there?” Steve asked.

“You want to contact them?” Susan asked, looking surprised. “Why?”

Steve hesitated for a second.

“I have this idea,” said Steve slowly, “That it would be great if superhero teams are aware of each other, and helped each other out if need be. I didn’t know about you guys until today, and I wished we did six months ago.”

“Are you talking about the aliens that invaded Manhattan?” said Reed, with a troubling amount of interest.

“Yes,” said Steve warily.

“Could I possibly get a sample of-”

“Don’t mind him,” said Ben, interrupting. “If an alien stubbed his toe, Reed would want to spend ten years studying it. Anyway, yeah, while you guys were busy at Grand Central, we were busy protectin’ Madison Avenue. But you guys are the ones who got all credit!”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

“Why are you sorry? We’re not in control of the media,” Tony groused. “We can’t help it if they think the Avengers are awesomer.”

“That’s not the point, Tony,” Steve said impatiently. “We should acknowledge the very real contribution the Fantastic Four made, regardless of what the press decides to report. It’s only fair.”

Tony rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and heaved a dramatic sigh. Ben smirked at Steve.

“Next time, a warnin’ would be nice. That way I don’t blame Reed for lettin’ his experiments go amok,” said Ben.

“That’s what we thought had happened when we saw the big portal in the sky,” Johnny chimed. “Totally something Reed would cook up over a weekend.”

Tony paled at the mention of the portal. Steve put a comforting hand on his thigh, discreetly under the table.

“Back to Xavier Institute,” said Steve, “Could I get the address?”

“I’ll do one better, I’ll introduce you to Professor Xavier,” said Susan. “Don’t worry about him. Unlike a lot of his X-Men and Johnny, he’s a gentleman.”

oooo

Xavier Institute was located in Westchester County, New York. Xavier agreed to meet the Avengers that evening, once Tony told him that this was their only opportunity to meet up while SHIELD/government lost track of them due to magical teleportation (“It makes sense in context. Trust me,” Tony said).

Steve and Tony had a heated argument on how they were going to get to X-mansion from the Baxter Building. Tony won the round by reminding Steve of his car collection in Stark Tower. So off they went, Tony driving his Acura sports car, with Bruce and Steve (still in Cap Mode) squashed in the back.

Xavier Institute was an old mansion of considerable size, possessing two connected wings lying symmetrically on the right and left of the main building. The estate was surrounded by acres of manicured lawns, and expertly pruned hedges. In front of the main building, there was a half-moon shaped gravel-stone driveway _,_ and that was where Tony parked his Acura.

“Stark Tower is way cooler,” Tony sniffed as he studied the mansion with a critical eye.

They climbed the steps. At the top, they encountered a short man who had a very muscular build, and whose dark hair and beard reminded Bruce of a halfway transformed werewolf. He was smoking a cigar.

“Whassup, Avengers,” said the man, his tone dripping mockery.

“Hello,” said Steve, frowning. “You look familiar. Do I know you?” Steve’s eyes went wide. “1st Canadian Parachute Battalion, Logan _?_ ”

There was a short pause. Then the man drew deep drag from his cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke.

“You got my name right, that’s for sure,” said Logan. “Did you lie about your memory loss, Rogers?”

“Who told you that?” Steve asked.

“Nick Fury needs to speak quieter if he doesn’t want me to hear,” Logan leered. “Why’d he send you this way, anyhow? No one here can help. I should know.”

Steve gave him a sad, knowing look. “You've gone through something similar.”

“I’ve got so many implanted memories, everything I remember happening before a certain point is suspect,” Logan said. “I do remember us working together back in World War II. Doubt I was a regular soldier, tho’. I’m the best there is at what I do, but what I do best isn’t very nice.”

“It doesn't bother you?” Steve asked, while Bruce did the math and boggled at Logan’s far-too-young-looking-for-his-age appearance.

“Not much I can do about. When you lose your memories, you generally don't get ‘em back,” said Logan matter-of-factly. “You're lucky someone’s trying to give yours back some. Or not. You're f&#^ng Captain America. You probably need your 1920s to 1940s memories to play the part.”

“I did wonder if experiencing the trenches of Europe and knowing the smell of a Hydra stronghold is a requirement to being ‘Captain America’,” said Steve sardonically.

Logan chuckled. “So you’re here for Chuck. What for?”

“Impulse visit,” said Steve. “It’s good of Dr. Xavier to agree to meet us at such a short notice.”

“So your visit here has nothing to do with convincing us to play nice to The Man?” Logan asked.

“No,” said Steve firmly. “Asking you to trust a government agency that hasn’t proven its trustworthiness is just plain stupid.”

Logan laughed around his cigar, scattering ash everywhere.

“Now I know why we didn’t kill each other back in the forties,” he said. “Well, here’s a freebie: unless you have the habit of killing lots people, not remembering your past is nothing to sweat over. What you remember don’t make who are, anyway. Lehnsherr says I’m the same bastard he met back in the sixties. I don’t remember meeting him, but I do believe him.”

“Lehnsherr?” Steve asked.

That moment, the doors to the main entrance opened and revealed two old men just beyond the foyer. One was bald, had incredibly muscular arms, and was sitting in a wheelchair. The other had a full set of hair and was standing behind the wheelchair-bound man, holding a rather familiar looking helmet.

Bruce stifled a gasp.

It was Magneto.

Bruce learned about Magneto during his teenage years. He was as he was shown in the news. The white mane-like hair. The bushy eyebrows. The towering stature, square face, and piercing eyes that broadcasted his indomitable will and self-assurance. He was the mutant who incited fear, awe, admiration or hatred, but never indifference. He was also the most well-known archenemy of the X-Men. So what was he doing here?!

“ _Max_?” Steve said, with naked shock.

“His name is Erik Lehnsherr, bub,” said Logan.

Steve’s head shook firmly. “No, it’s not. Max Eisenhardt. 24005. Auschwitz. 1944.”

There was a long silence. Then Magneto pulled off his left glove, rolled up the sleeve to his elbow, and extended his arm out for everyone to see. On his inner forearm, there was a series of numbers tattooed on his skin. It looked old and faded. Bruce looked at the sequence and confirmed Steve had recited it correctly.

“There aren’t many people who remember me from back then,” said Magneto as he covered his arm again. “I remember you. The American Captain. You weren't wearing the stupid spangle-banner suit.”

“I rarely did, for reasons you’ve mentioned,” said Steve, staring at Magneto as though he was a long-lost family member. “It so good to see you alive, Max.”

Magneto let out a harsh laugh. “One may argue it would’ve been better if you never did.”

“Word,” Tony muttered quietly. He had the temerity to look betrayed when Bruce elbowed him.

“ _Max_ ,” said Steve, now looking pained. “I wanted only one thing for you, and it is that you live.”

“Perhaps you should’ve wished for more,” said Magneto, his lips twisting into a shark-grin. “You have no idea what I have done these last seventy years.”

“No, I don’t,” said Steve, before Tony could open his mouth again. “Whatever it is that you did since I last saw you, perhaps out of anger, perhaps out of hatred, perhaps out of a genuine belief it was the only way, I’m not the one you have to answer. I haven’t the right.” Steve held out both hands, as though inviting Magneto for a hug. “You’re _alive_. That’s enough for me.”

Magneto turned expressionless as he stared at Steve’s extended hands, at Steve’s face, and then the hands again. Bruce could sense the metal around them rattling.

In the end, Magneto clasped one of Steve’s hands. Steve held it with both, silent but honestly happy about it. Magneto twitched and worked his jaw for a few seconds before he broke contact and stormed off, cape flaring dramatically.

“Well, that went well,” said Logan.

“And people say _I’m_ reckless,” said Tony, shaking his head. “Steve, you tried to hug a terrorist. A terrorist who can kill you by manipulating the iron in your blood. This makes you certifiably insane.”

Steve just shrugged. “I’ll put it on my wall.”

“Please excuse him, Captain Rogers,” said the old bald man sitting in a wheelchair. “I’m Charles Xavier. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Please, it’s Steve,” said Steve, leaning forward to shake Xavier’s hand. “And the honor is mine. I heard from Susan Richards what you’ve done to foster peace between mutants and ordinary people.”

Xavier smiled warmly. “So you are here to learn, I’m given to understand,” he said.

“There seems to be a lot of history that I’ve missed,” said Steve. “I couldn’t think of anyone better to learn from, but the man who lived through it as the leader of the longest active superhero team.”

“Oh, I don’t know about longest active superhero team, let alone leader,” Xavier demurred. “But for learning, you’ve come to the right place. Please, come inside.”

oooo

Xavier started them off with a short tour of his school. Only a few rooms in the mansion appeared to be in use as classrooms, and Bruce counted perhaps thirty odd students total.

“We used to have hundreds of children,” said Xavier mournfully. “But once the Legacy virus ran its course, we were left with only 27.”

“I’m sorry,” said Steve softly, and then put up a finger in a hushing gesture. Bruce looked at where Steve was gazing at and found a young boy goggling at Captain America in plainclothes. He seemed to be perpetually burning.

Bruce studied the students they came across afterward. One was entirely covered in black fur and appeared to have feline ears. One looked normal except for her long red tail that ended in a spike. Another student was half-transparent and seemed to pop in and out of existence.

“Not all of them manifest their x-genes so glaringly,” said Xavier, after they met the semi-transparent student. “But more often than not, they do.”

“I guess that makes normal life very difficult,” Bruce murmured.

“Unfortunately,” said Xavier. “We do what we can to teach them how to harness their powers, and help them find their place in this world.”

“And do they find it?” Steve asked, still gazing at the mutant students.

“Not all,” Xavier said frankly. “But more and more are able to.”

Xavier took them to his office after the tour. There they found Magneto waiting for them. The five of them then spent the rest of the afternoon talking about how to maintain a superhero identity in an era of smartphones, social media, 24-7 news, and a government that had virtually unlimited power on what they could monitor on the Internet.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for e-Commerce, to say nothing of the Internet,” Xavier sighed.

“I like the Internet,” Steve protested. “It’s like the best-stocked library at your fingertips.”

“It’s a garbage pit,” said Magneto flatly. “I’ve seen things there that makes Charles’s nightmares look like a nice stroll in comparison.”

It suddenly occurred to Bruce that Steve, Xavier, and Magneto were age-peers (Steve being perhaps ten years older, chronologically). Tony must have thought the same thing, because he was grinning manically. Meanwhile, Steve, Magneto and Xavier seemed to have moved on to talking about the X-Men’s turbulent relationship with government officials.

“So the X-Men were never under full government control,” said Steve.

“My dream is that mutants and ordinary people live peacefully with each other. Not that mutants eke out a pale existence as tools of the government,” said Xavier.

“Even Charles, for all his foolish idealism, knows better than that,” said Magneto.

“But we’ve cooperated, where cooperation is due,” said Xavier, sending a small glare at Magneto.

“You compromised,” Magneto argued. “And your unwillingness to use strong force has led to many of our kind to slip through the cracks. Where would your students be now, if the brotherhood had not taken action during the Scourge?”

“And how many innocent lives were lost because of those actions?” Xavier argued back. Then he immediately deflated. “Forgive me. Erik, old friend, please, not now.”

Steve looked at Bruce. _Old argument_ , Bruce silently confirmed.

“You two seem to work together, differences aside,” Steve remarked.

“I was forced into it,” said Magneto.

“You mentioned the legacy virus and a scourge,” Steve asked carefully.

“We had our version of a baby-boom back in the early two thousands,” said Xavier. “We reached peak numbers at around 2002. Then an airborne viral agent, now known as Legacy-1 and Legacy-2, wiped 91% of the mutant population. Only 198 confirmed to have survived the scourge world-wide. We commemorate the day the outbreak finally ended as M-day.”

“It affected only mutants?” Bruce asked.

“Yep,” said Tony. “The pathology of Legacy-1 was cancer-like. Legacy-2 replicated more slowly, but it produced symptoms like black pox, and had a similar fatality rate.”

“And you know this, how?” asked Bruce.

“Biochemical engineering conference,” said Tony, scratching his neck. “Stark Industries was expanding into Biotech. After 9-11, there was some talk about terrorists using viral agents that only worked on people who have a specific gene sequence. Then there was huge bidding war for a cure for Legacy-3 virus … the strain that affected all humans. FYI: I didn’t develop the virus. Biology is not my thing.”

Xavier sighed. “We’re still not sure who is responsible for Legacy 1 and 2. We have our suspicions, but…”

Steve turned pensive. Bruce wondered if Xavier was tracking the thoughts going through Steve’s head, and if so, what he thought of them. Then Bruce wondered if Xavier was tracking _his_ thoughts, which lead him to wonder about the quality of his thinking, and on and on until finally he just gave up, exhausted.

“Was there another kind of attack targeting mutants specifically?” Steve asked, after a long beat.

“The sentinels,” Magneto replied.

“Advanced bioroids programmed to search and destroy mutants,” Xavier elaborated.

“Wait, you’re talking about ‘bots, right?” Tony exclaimed. “Bots are definitely my thing! Who developed them? Who employed them? Are there any scrap for me to look at? How did I not hear about this?”

“Why would humans care if mutants are wiped out by robots?” asked Magneto bitterly.

Steve looked really upset. “I do.”

Magneto scowled and said nothing. Xavier gave him another gentle glare.

“Bolivar Trask is the man who proposed the sentinel program to the US government in 1973,” said Xavier. “It was eventually accepted. The sentinels we faced then were large and clunky, and Erik was able to infuse metal into their bodies and thus control them. The last iteration of sentinels were smaller, sleeker and several orders of magnitude more deadly. Their plastic bodies were also far more resistant to tampering.”

“Thrashed you good, huh?” said Tony, looking pointedly at Magneto. He yelped when Bruce pinched him.

A moment of silence followed. Steve’s pensive look took a brooding turn. Tony was vibrating in his seat, and was unnaturally quiet. Bruce shared both of their unease.

“The thoughts of you three are deep and very troubling,” Xavier remarked.

Steve smiled weakly. “I hope they’re just wild fancies.”

“It’s better to assume the worse and be pleasantly surprised later,” Magneto declared. “Care to share it with the class, anyone?”

Tony looked away. Steve hesitated. Bruce himself wasn’t sure if it was wise to share his vague suspicions: two superhero groups, one sanctioned and protected because they fully submitted to government authority, while the other group, who arguably had same abilities but greater numbers, persecuted because they wanted the same freedoms as ordinary citizens who didn’t sign their life away to the military. This, on top of the Avengers’ own struggles against a semi-government agency’s unrelenting effort to control them, painted a very sinister picture. But one he had no clear evidence for. And if there was one thing he knew about the mutants, it was that a lot of them were willing to use force to get their point across, and that often didn’t end well.

“…Maybe not just yet,” said Bruce.

Xavier gave them a sad smile. “So be it. Before you go, may I invite you to dinner?”

oooo

Bruce, Steve and Tony ended up staying for dinner. All the X-Men were present. As Bruce expected, there weren’t as many as there had been in the early 2000s. A lot of founding members seemed to be missing, too.

The meal was pleasant enough. The food was excellent, Xavier was charming, and Magneto’s raw charisma made him a very interesting dinner guest/host/not-sure-what-role-he-fits. However, Bruce could see what Johnny Storm meant by the X-men’s attitude problems. Scott and Alex Summers, for starters, kept making condescending remarks about the Avenger’s fighting abilities, and Tony of course wouldn’t let that slide and responded in kind. Thankfully Logan and Magneto seemed to take Steve’s side, if not necessarily the Avengers’, because the former kept dropping cigar ash on everyone’s food except Steve and Xavier’s (and Magneto’s, but Bruce suspected this was more a distance problem than an unwillingness problem), while the latter very unsubtly turned Alex Summers’ cutlery into twisted blobs.

“It’s unfortunate you are not willing to share your inner commentary, Captain. It’s very funny,” said Xavier, out of the blue.

Everyone stared at Xavier, and then at Steve.

“Prof, you can’t say stuff like that and just leave us hanging!” Nightcrawler – Kurt? – exclaimed.

Xavier just smiled. Steve took a sip of wine and then drew in a breath.

“The X-Men and Avengers continue their d!ck-measuring contest at a hot rate,” Steve said, perfectly imitating the tone of a baseball commentator from the days of old. “The current topic of dispute is air support. The X-Men have fliers and a Jet. The Avengers have two master spies who can pilot all manner of aircraft and the uncanny ability to steal them as needed, Thor who has his magic flying hammer, Iron Man who can fly, full stop, and Hulk who can leap over skyscrapers. But then there’s Captain America, who states: _I’m taking the stairs_.”

Everyone was laughing hysterically at this point. Even Magneto managed a shark grin that actually contained (terrifying) mirth. Tony was clinging on Steve’s arm and was basically shrieking into a bicep.

“I heard Captain America say the words ‘d!ck measuring contest’,” Tony crowed. “I have no more regrets.”

“What, you thought I wouldn’t say such things?” said Steve, sounding offended.

“No! You’re the type to say _‘Language_!’ when someone cusses!”

“Sorry, Tony, but Howard told you terrible lies about me,” Steve said solemnly. “If I was born in this era, I would’ve been _that kid_ who wore spiky leather collars, matching jacket and partially shredded jeans. And my hair would be pink.”

Kitty Pryde actually fell out of her chair, she was laughing so hard.

“No really,” Steve continued, deadpan. “Bucky’s Ma rued the day she said: _Bucky, this is Steve. Play with him for five minutes while Mrs. Rogers checks the baby._ Since then I was the blot of her otherwise well-behaved, got straight A’s, excellent athlete, good-looking and popular son.”

More laughing ensued. Bruce, on the other hand, latched on the pronoun and felt his heart sink. In the corner of his eye, he could see Xavier looking perturbed.

The rest of the evening was more friendly and playful. But then Logan joined forces with Scott Summers and convinced Tony that they spar. Steve declined at first – “This is one question I do not need answering” – but got roped in, nevertheless.

So they migrated to the Danger Room, the place where the X-Men did team practices and tested battle strategies using holographs and simulations. Bruce took the spot next to Xavier’s, which happened to be the opposite side of Magneto’s.

“So are you reading everyone’s mind, or just Steve’s?” Bruce asked.

“Certain minds are more inviting than others,” said Xavier. “Erik’s mind, for example, is a steel fortress with gunners stationed every two feet, and three layers of barbed wire around a very large and deep moat.”

“Which is infested with sharks?”

“As well as man-eating crocodiles,” Xavier said, making Magneto smirk. “Captain Rogers’ mind, in contrast, is an open and welcoming door, beyond which lays many delights. It’s very hard for telepaths like me to stay out.”

“Still creepy,” Bruce said.

“Understandable,” said Xavier. “I will stop. I am not reading your mind right now, in case you are wondering.”

“I did, thanks. So,” Bruce drew in a deep breath. “You know about the serum’s age limit.”

“I do,” said Xavier, and Magneto looked down in surprise. “It’s disturbing knowledge. Just as disturbing as the knowledge that someone tried to break Captain America when they had the chance. I can’t help but wonder who did it, for what purpose.”

Bruce definitely could feel the metal clasps of his belt rattling.

“…Charles,” Magneto rasped. “What are you talking about?”

Bruce gave him a terse summary: 1) Steve lost all past memory, 2) SHIELD hired a wizard/sorcerer/magic person to restore it partially, 3) Steve’s sex organs were removed as prep for the serum, 4) the serum’s limitations implied Steve was either a fifteen-year-old boy or a twenty-plus-year-old woman, but 5) they weren’t sure which because items one and three and chimeraism. Magneto looked ready to crush the Triskelion into a tiny ball, preferably with SHIELD still in it, by the time he was done speaking.

“I can do some digging,” Xavier said. “Erik, you met Captain Rogers in 1944. What do you recall?”

“Captain Rogers was as I see,” Magneto growled. “That means nothing, of course, if-”

There was a loud scuffle and shocked voices.

“BRUCE!” Tony shouted. “BRUCE, LOOK!”

Bruce looked. The first thing he noticed was a fully armored Tony, with the faceplate up, clutching a very bemused Skinny-Steve to his chest. The second thing he noticed was Steve didn’t look sickly, pale and gaunt anymore, but the hair looked glossy, the cheeks were rosy, and the skin had a golden sheen … in short, the picture of good health. The only thing that remained the same was Skinny-Steve looked about twelve.

“Ohmygod, it worked,” Bruce gibbered. “The magic _worked_!”

Tony clutched Steve tighter.

“I’m never saying anything against magic ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: gratuitous crossing of my other works. Links to the stories are directly in the story and below. I couldn't resist. Ufufufu
> 
> [A Study In Magic](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7578572/1/A-Study-in-Magic)  
> [The Closet of Possibility](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10109481/1/The-Closet-of-Possibility)


	11. The Winter Soldier, Part 3

There were inevitable questions concerning Skinny-Steve after the X-Men came around to the notion. Hank McCoy, aka Beast, was particularly fascinated.

“Is it involuntary or voluntary?” asked Hank, as he took out a notepad from his jacket pocket and a pen from behind a furry blue ear.

“I have limited degree of control,” Steve answered. “Not quite sure what triggers it, but usually I grow big before a fight. I can shrink when I want to.”

“Perhaps this is an inherent property of the serum?” Xavier mused. “The requirements of peak agility is not the same as that of peak strength. If the serum was meant to achieve peak human condition in every physical aspect, then it would  _need_  to be able to transform your body to each definition of peak.”

Steve smiled and pointed at Tony. “This one’s father wondered the same thing. Turns out, not quite true.”

Steve briefly explained SSR and later SHIELD’s findings: Steve acquired skills and knowledge the same way as normal people – namely, putting in the hours – but never forgot them or lost them once they were obtained. In short, for Steve, there were no perishable skills.

“That’s a remarkable advantage,” said Xavier. “So your bigger physique is the result of training?”

“Mostly, but not quite,” said Steve. “The serum did give me eight more inches and a square jaw.”

“Think you can shrink all the way now?” Tony asked.

Steve turned thoughtful. “I can try.”

Bruce felt his heart rate go up as he watched Steve’s eyes close.

They waited. It was hard to tell if Steve was shrinking or not. But there was a subtle shifting about the face, and Bruce fancied Steve’s ankle-tapered pants were bunching up more at the shins.

Steve looked up when the transformation was presumably over. Bruce noted Steve appeared two inches shorter than Tony, about as skinny as before, but looked around eighteen or nineteen. Bruce didn’t think Steve’s face changed all that much, but something about the skin quality added age.

“Feel any different?” Bruce asked.

“I need glasses,” said Steve, squinting.

“We’ll get you some reading glasses, old man,” Tony mumbled. Bruce didn’t know why, but Tony was staring at Steve like a rabbit caught in headlights at night.

Magneto, who had been studying Smaller-Steve with ferocious intensity but without comment thus far, suddenly asked:

“Does the name Madeline Joyce ring any bells, Captain?”

Steve looked blank. “No. Should it?”

“I would think so, considering Sergeant Barnes used to look at her as though she hung the moon.”

“ _What?!_ ” Steve shouted, thoroughly perturbed.

Steve continued to look unsettled as Magneto described his escape from Auschwitz, which was where he had been kept as a test subject ( _ohmygod_ , Bruce thought bleakly). After Steve smuggled him out of the lab, Bucky Barnes took the then young Magneto to see two ladies tasked to document what was going on in Auschwitz’s main concentration camp – Agent Carter and Agent Joyce. Steve was back in Cap Mode when Magneto finished speaking.

“I have no memory this,” Steve muttered.

“You don’t remember Breaking Auschwitz?” asked Scott Summers, surprised.

“I remember the camp. I don’t remember Miss Joyce,” said Steve.

Bruce kept his mouth shut while questions exploded inside his head.  _Breaking Auschwitz_  was one of the most famous Captain America exploits. Shortly after a failed prisoner revolt, Captain America broke into Auschwitz, personally killed hundreds (?) of SS members, and destroyed all the crematoriums. Many of the camp staff who tried to flee were killed or captured when the explosives the Howling Commandos planted along the exit routes went off. Did it make sense that Steve would remember the assault, but not the aftermath? Should he put this under  _suspect memory loss, since Steve should remember this?_  Was it reasonable to expect someone who had eidetic memory to know a woman Steve may have never met?

“So how does the timeline work?” Kitty Pryde asked. “You infiltrated Auschwitz, got Mags out, then…”

“I went back,” said Steve.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Mad props to you, Cap. All the f3#$ing props,” Alex Summers said reverently.

Steve glanced at the floor, looking pained.

“I wish I’ve done the same for Birkenau.”

This time Bruce was struck by his own ignorance concerning the Holocaust. He knew what the Nazis did to Jews and other ‘undesirables’ in general a sense, but had limited knowledge of the details. He certainly didn’t know about a concentration camp called Birkenau. Then it suddenly dawned on him Steve was now the youngest surviving eyewitness of the Holocaust, who personally saw what was going on in one of the most infamous death camps in German-occupied Europe while it was still in operation.

“You did what my people fervently wished for, but the Allies were unwilling to do,” said Magneto, after another bout of quiet. “I’m thankful enough of that.”

oooo

Their evening at X-Mansion dwindled to a close, shortly after the unexpected turn in the conversation. Steve and the X-Men exchanged contact info, and Tony planned lets-meet-up-agains with Xavier and Cyclops. Then a mutant who looked like a cartoon devil teleported Bruce, Steve, Tony and Tony’s Acura just outside of New York City and then vanished in a puff of sulfur.

“Gene-based teleportation wins over magical ones. Yay!” said Tony in a shaky voice once he regained his bearings. “Still doesn’t beat airplanes and my suits, though. Don’t care if it takes longer.”

“Agreed,” Bruce said fervently.

“Of course you do. Now speaking of which, Malibu next, yes?” Tony said brightly.

“You go ahead. I’m going to stay for a bit longer,” Steve said.

“ _Why?_ ” said Tony, looking thoroughly put-out.

“Harry’s coming back in a week, and I need to get set up at the V.A.,” said Steve.

Tony waved his hand like flying to and from Malibu and New York in a span of a week was nothing, which for him it probably was the case.

Steve sighed. “ _Tony,_ ” the tone was stern, but not chiding, “Tony, you’ve done more than enough. And you should spend alone time with Pepper.”

Now Tony looked torn. “…That’s a low blow, and I’m calling you on it,” he muttered.

“I’ve been told I’m good at tactics,” Steve said, grinning.

“Are you gonna look for other superheroes without me?” Tony asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Mmm, maybe,” said Steve. “I have a feeling they don’t want to be found, tho’. Besides, going around looking for other superheroes might do them more harm than good. It’s not like we don’t know SHIELD monitors everything, and has all of us under 24-7 surveillance.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you up to? I categorically refuse to believe you’re staying in East Coast in the middle of winter just to do some housekeeping. Nope, I’m calling you on your lying, Steve, and Captain America should not lie. This is a truth.”

Steve looked at Tony for a moment. Then smiled in a way that never failed to put Tony off-kilter.

“Wanna know a secret?” Steve asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Tony, twitching all over. “But hell, now I’m curious. What is it?”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” said Steve. “I mean, look.” Steve waved at – the huge body, a screaming sign that Steve was, in fact, quite frightened.

“Okay, I’m officially freaking out now, and I’m the paranoid one,” Tony muttered. “What’s troubling you?”

Steve smiled lopsidedly for a short beat, then looked up and stared at the inky-black sky.

“…Why is our government collecting superheroes?” Steve said. “What kind of threat is out there, that they feel the need to monitor anything and everything? Is the threat real? Or is it paranoia that’s making them this way? Or is it,” Steve’s voice wavered, “people who have extraordinary abilities simply cannot escape the superhero life because they have reasons to believe there are no other options, and our government is simply seizing the opportunity?”

Bruce felt like ropes were tightening around his neck. “Steve…” he stopped. He didn’t know what to say.

Steve drew in a deep breath and then exhaled.

“I need to settle these questions in my head,” said Steve, now looking determined. “I’m an Avenger, for better or worse. If I must do this, I’m going to do this right.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to do it  _now_ ,” Tony shot back. “Distance is good for a reason, you know.”

They went back and forth like that. Bruce cited Steve’s medical leave as legit grounds for not working for another two months, and Tony vehemently argued giving Fury the finger was always an option. In the end, Tony agreed to head to Malibu on his own, once Steve and Bruce promised to join him there a week later, and Steve agreed to send a note to Pepper about the memory restorationist.

“It’s not just you who thinks the superhero situation is suspicious, Spangles,” Tony said. “I thought the progression of mutants refusing registration, a sudden emergence of a mutant-specific viral agent that may have been a tool developed for biological warfare, and then a final sweep of mutants via killer robots came about too swiftly. Don’t you agree, Jolly Green?”

“I was more troubled at the difference between government-supported superheroes vs not, but yeah, sure,” Bruce said.

“Exactly my point,” said Tony, pointing dramatically. “Okay, so we all agree something fishy is going on, and that fishy thing might affect us because we’re in the same business. Good thing the Avengers have something the X-Men and Fantastic Four don’t. Or rather, someone.”

Bruce found himself smiling in spite of himself. “Who is?”

Tony grinned rakishly.

“ _Me._ ” Then he turned serious. “I’m gonna do something about this. You’ll be all right?”

Steve nodded. “Tell Pepper I said Hi.”

oooo

Next morning, as promised, Tony flew to Malibu via chartered jet, and Steve sent a note to Pepper (“Tony helped me try to track down my old memory restoration specialist. Turns out the man I thought did it was a decoy. We have no way of knowing who the real person is. SHIELD is not talking.”) Afterwards, Steve just sat, looked lost and out of sorts.

“Not sure what to do with yourself?” Bruce asked.

Steve smiled self-deprecatingly. “I rebel against stagnation. Give me problems, give me work.”

“Typical workaholic, huh?” Bruce chuckled. “Well then. Why don’t we resume our efforts to get you a college degree?”

Steve looked heartbreakingly uncertain. “Do you really I think I can do it?”

“From what I’ve seen so far, academics are going to be least of your worries,” said Bruce firmly. “But if you’re still unsure about it, you can always wet your toes at a community college.”

Steve was all for taking a few classes as practice, so the two of them had JARVIS look for reputable colleges in New York, Maryland and DC (and Virginia, because Bruce had to be fair). Once JARVIS compiled a list, they checked each school’s offerings.

“Oh, this one’s only a mile away from Lucy’s,” said Steve, pointing.

“And they have credit transfer agreements with decent 4-year universities. That’s nice,” Bruce said.

“What does that mean, and why is it good?” 

“It means if you get accepted to a university that has a credit transfer agreement with the community college you’ve attended, they’ll count the classes you took. No need to spend time and money to take the same classes, in other words. Some of these universities even guarantee admission if you finish a qualified two-year program, as long as you’ve maintained a certain grade point average. A lot of people opt for this route since community college tuition tend to be cheaper, and class quality is about the same.”

“That  _is_  nice,” said Steve. “Now speaking of tuition, how am I going to pay for all this? I don’t want Tony to throw his credit card at it.”

“Why don’t we figure out how much it’s gonna cost first, and then think pay options?” Bruce suggested.

So they checked the tuition costs of the prospective schools. The numbers left Bruce feeling extremely glad for attending college twenty plus years ago, and Steve speechless and appalled. After getting a ballpark range, they discussed the possibility of SHIELD offering an education stipend, which version of the G.I. Bill would Steve be eligible for, Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) and scholarships. Then JARVIS mentioned Steve was likely eligible for Social Security benefits, which could be spent on school-related expenses, but then JARVIS mentioned tax considerations and whether that would exclude Steve from receiving Federal Aid, and …

“Why is this so complicated?” Steve groaned, face in hands.

Bruce patted Steve back sympathetically. “Welcome to Higher Education in 21st Century America.”

“How do people pay for school?” Steve wondered.

“Badly. There is a national student loan crisis brewing. We just got a taste of the reason why.”

Steve groaned again. Then, after a long, gloomy beat, Steve’s head lifted up with a clenched jaw.

“Well, I did ask for problems. I better put my money where my mouth is.”

Bruce nodded. “Open us a spreadsheet, JARVIS.”

They worked at it for an hour. Steve adapted to the interface within the first five minutes. In no time they had the potential schools broken down by major, itemized cost, and future job opportunities. Steve called SHIELD’s HR department and got answers about their education stipend (available to approved full time employees, but not to consultants). Bruce had a hunch figuring out Steve’s Social Security benefits was a job more suitable for an accountant or a lawyer, so had Steve put that down on their To-Do list. Then they did some cursory research at ssa.gov (it was informative; one could apply online now, some states paid supplemental income, but the approval waiting period was  _4 months_ ). The G.I. bill was another question they needed to seek clarity – namely from the V.A. – so that went down on the To-Do list, too.

“At least I have an idea where to start and how much it’s gonna cost me,” said Steve, at the end of it.

“Yep,” Bruce agreed. He still felt outraged at the tuition costs.

“Looks like engineering or computer degrees are the only majors worth the fees,” Steve went on morosely. “Though I supposed I could go for an MFA…”

“Do you  _want_  to do engineering?” Bruce asked.

“I don’t know,” said Steve, shoulders hunched. “Some days I feel like I can do anything. Other days I feel presumptuous for even trying.”

That didn’t really answer Bruce’s question. Then he wondered if Steve even had the concept of doing things purely based on one’s likes and dislikes.

“Are you personally interested in those fields?” Bruce asked again.

“I do. I  _am_. But I don’t think I have the knack for engineering,” said Steve. “I may also be seventy years out-of-date in technological development.”

Bruce smiled. “You know, some argue natural talent is a myth.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up.

“There’s this resurgent idea that there’s no such thing as natural-born talent, especially in knowledge-based fields,” explained Bruce. “Even so-called prodigies are usually the result of the kid starting early, and having parents who knew how to make them practice properly.”

Steve instantly turned both thoughtful and hopeful. “So I could make it up with practice?”

“With  _good_ practice, yeah,” said Bruce. “It’s hard, tho’, and not inherently pleasant. And you can’t avoid putting in the hours.”

“That’s fine,” said Steve, eyes gleaming. “I’m good at getting things done.”

 _You’re stubborn, in other words_ , Bruce thought fondly. “That’s the spirit.”

“So where should I start?” Steve asked eagerly.

“First, let’s get your math up to speed,” said Bruce. “Then we can start working on Physics and Chemistry.”

Steve pulled a face. “ _Ich_ , math, no.”

“Oh, math,  _yes_ ,” Bruce grinned.

oooo

Bruce asked a few pointed math questions to Steve, and determined Steve’s mathematics education ended somewhere north of Algebra I, with some smattering of self-taught Geometry. So he looked up courses in Khan Academy and set Steve to take a self-paced class of Algebra II. Then Bruce called Reed Richards to talk about Harry the Wizard.

“Harry told us he’s been checking our universe daily since his first visit here, and that he’d come back in a week,” said Bruce. “A day from his perspective is not necessarily a day from ours. So my question is this: is there any time distortion differences between his world and ours?”

“Excellent question,” said Reed. “I wasn’t aware Harry was checking our universe daily. He seemed to drop in and out of our world at random. I’ll review my video records to see if there’s a pattern.”

“Great, thanks.”

Bruce worked on creating models using the Convergence data after the call. The day was progressing towards a quiet yet industrious one until Natasha Romanoff suddenly jumped into his field of vision.

Bruce flailed his arms and flung himself backward. Natasha clapped a hand over his mouth before he could shout and stopped him from falling with a swift move. Then she put a finger over her plump red lips and shh-ed him.

“Natasha?” Steve’s voice said.

Natasha faced left and dimpled. “Hi, Steve. You look like a teen whose parents have given up on.”

“I resent that remark,” said Bruce, once Natasha removed her palm. Then he actually  _looked_  at Steve’s attire and noticed the thick navy sweatpants clearly made for someone five inches taller and sixty pounds heavier, the red oversized hoodie, and the fuzzy pink socks. He could not explain how he allowed Steve to go out in public dressed like that, even to himself.

“So what brings you here?” Steve asked, arms crossed.

“You owe me a shopping trip,” said Natasha.

“Too busy,” Steve protested.

“All work and no play make Captain America a dull child,” Natasha chided. “C’mon. I’ll treat you to a Broadway show afterward.”

“What are you really up to?” Steve asked suspiciously.

“NYC is one of the world’s shopping, food and entertainment hotspots. Need I say more?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve retorted.

“So suspicious,” said Natasha, beaming. “Brooklyn then. Two sets of wardrobes to make your two modes of physical existence presentable, dinner and then Brooklyn. How does that sound? C’mon, Steve, work with me here.”

Steve sighed. “You’re not gonna leave me alone until I agree, are you?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Steve grouched, and then stomped off.

“Good. You stay here,” said Natasha, now turning to Bruce. “No offense, but you’ve already done terrible things to Steve’s fashion and music taste.”

Bruce was going to protest, but then Steve returned two minutes later wearing a regrettable white turtleneck, khakis, and a tan jacket. It made Bruce hold his palms up in surrender.

“Knew you were going to be reasonable,” Natasha said in approval.

oooo

Natasha and Steve left Stark Tower shortly thereafter. In the hours that followed, Natasha sent photos of Steve in various outfits to Bruce. Most of these were smart and conservative, but then she sent a photo of Steve wearing a Piglet onesie and a scowl. Bruce forwarded it to Tony, who promptly replied to everyone a photo of him wearing a Tigger costume and pink sunglasses, crouching on a green lawn with clawed hands.

Natasha took Steve to dinner and Brooklyn as promised. But before they could get to the latter, they got into a scuffle with a terrorist who tried to hold several high-level SHIELD scientists hostage. Bruce really didn’t know what else he was expecting.

“You could’ve just told me,” sighed Steve when they returned, sporting a bruised cheek and bloody knuckles.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Natasha grinned, despite the split lip. “You’re getting better,” she remarked.

“Was it a test?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing so crass,” said Natasha, dimpling. “Welcome back, Cap.”

oooo

Reed Richards followed up on Bruce’s question two days later. He confirmed Harry checked in more often than he’d initially thought, but the occurrences of those check-ins had a ‘purely random pattern.’

“What he does when he checks-in is consistent,” said Reed. “He leaves the closet and teleports. He returns about a thirty minutes later and then goes back inside the closet. The time between his check-ins, on the other hand, are all over the place. Sometimes it’s weeks, sometimes it’s months, and sometimes it’s hours.”

“So we just have to wait?” Steve asked.

“Pretty much.”

Steve looked at Bruce. “Accountant, Lawyer or V.A.?”

“Which one feels less like pulling teeth?” Bruce asked.

Steve shrugged. “V.A., I guess.”

V.A. meant a trip to Maryland-DC, so that’s what they did. Steve called Lucy Le, their old landlady, to book rooms, and Bruce appropriated one Tony’s cars to drive them there.

Bruce had a long talk with Lucy about Steve’s college aspirations after they settled in. Lucy, it turned out, had a day job as .NET developer so was familiar with the industry as a normal person. She also had street-level knowledge of the local universities.

“It is a good school,” said Lucy, when Bruce asked about the community college a mile away from her house. “They have good teachers, and their computer science and engineering program guarantee admission to the University of Maryland. Their art program is also quite good, I am told. CG artists are in high demand and those who can code even more so. UMD is not top-tier, but their engineering program is nothing to look down upon. And if Steven wishes to do engineering for the long-term, then it is better to study at a decent state school rather than a brand name university. Be a Big Fish in a Small Pond.”

“Agreed,” said Bruce. “Thanks a lot, Lucy.”

They went to the V.A. in DC the next day. Steve was in Cap Mode, per Colonel Rhodes’ recommendation. Bruce had a feeling he’d come vastly unprepared because he had no idea where to go once they stepped inside the building. So they wandered around a bit, looking for someone who could help and ended up in a room full of veterans in the middle of sharing their woes.

“The thing is, I think it’s getting worse,” a female war vet was saying. “A cop pulled me over last week, he thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

There were many quiet and knowing looks. Bruce could tell Steve was listening intently.

“Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back,” said the black man at the podium. “It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase or in a little man-purse? It’s up to you.”

The meeting ended shortly afterward. The man at the podium said goodbye to all the veterans as they milled out.

“I’ll see you next week,” said the female vet they’d heard speak earlier.

“Yeah, see ya,” said the man at the podium.

She left. The man at the podium then came over to Steve.

“Hey, man, you look new. Need some help?” He asked.

“Maybe a little,” said Steve. “That was intense.”

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret,” said the man matter-of-factly. Then he offered a hand. “Sam Wilson.”

“Steve Rogers,” said Steve, shaking it.

Sam Wilson smiled. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Don’t mind if I ask for proof of identity.”

“You wanna see my license?”

“Ah, no. Steve Rogers are a dime in a dozen. I need to know if you’re  _Captain America_ ,” said Wilson.

Bruce bristled at the challenge. Steve, on the other hand, looked amused.

“I can run thirteen miles in thirty minutes,” Steve offered.

“Show me,” said Wilson.

“Sure, but only if you go out, too, and hobble along, while I pass you by,” said Steve.

“‘Dem fighting words,” Wilson said, arms crossed and beaming. “You’re on.”

That was how Bruce found himself sitting on some marble steps at the Tidal Basin, keeping time, while Cap-mode Steve and Sam Wilson ran three-mile laps around Washington DC.

“On your left,” Steve called out, for the second time.

“Uh-huh, on my left. Got it,” said Wilson a bit resignedly as Steve sprinted pass.

Wilson perhaps jogged another two minutes when Steve was behind him again.

“Don’t say it! Don’t you say it!” Wilson growled as he heard Steve approach.

“On your left!” Steve called out.

“ _C’mon!_ ” Wilson shouted. He angrily tried to speed up but got winded in a few seconds. Wilson eventually collapsed under a tree and tried to catch his breath.

“Need a medic?” Steve asked, a minute later.

Wilson laughed. “I need a new set of lungs. Dude, you were running like one-minute miles.”

Steve smiled. “I guess I got a late start.”

“Oh, really?” said Sam, incredulous. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He took a few breaths, before saying sarcastically: “Did you just take it? I assumed you just took it.”

“Convinced, then?”

“Totally,” Sam raised up a hand, and Steve helped him up to his feet. “Must have freaked you out coming home after the whole defrosting thing.”

Steve’s smile became guarded and fixed. “It takes some getting used to.”

“It’s your bed, right?”

“What’s that?” Steve asked, at the out-of-blue question.

“Your bed, it’s too soft,” said Sam. “When I was over there I slept on the ground and used rocks for pillows, like a caveman. Now I’m home, lying in my bed, and it’s like…”

“…Lying on a marshmallow. I feel like I’m gonna sink right to the floor,” Steve finished.

Sam nodded. Bruce could almost see the connection between the two forming.

“How long, and what unit?” Steve asked.

“Two tours. Fifty-eighth Para-rescue,” said Sam.

“Why’d you get out?”

“My wingman, Riley. Fly in the night mission. A standard PJ rescue op, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, till an RPG knocked Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It’s like I was up there just to watch. After that, I had really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” said Steve softly. “But you’re happy now, back in the world?”

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So, hell, yeah,” said Sam, flashing a grin. “You thinking about getting out? Is that why you were at the V.A.?”

“I don’t know if I’m still in or got kicked out,” said Steve. “I was hoping you guys could help me figure that out.”

“Were you listed as MIA or KIA?” Sam asked.

“No clue,” said Steve helplessly. “I was having enough trouble proving I’m me.”

“So I heard,” said Sam sympathetically. “Well, you gonna have to check with the Army to get your action status settled. If you were listed MIA, you’d’ve gotten automatic promotions. If you were listed KIA, then you need to get that reversed. There’s a world of a difference between gettin’ out as Captain versus, say, a General.”

Steve looked ready to cry, and so did Bruce. Army bureaucracy was among the worst.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Steve muttered.

“Hey, man, no giving up now,” said Sam. “We’ll figure this out.”

oooo

Within days, Sam got back to Bruce and Steve with answers about Steve’s back pay, hazard pay, action status, and last rank (“Rejoice. You’re a  _brigadier general._ ”). It was amazing.

“Looks like we won’t have to bother with Social Security and Medicare, at least not yet,” said Bruce, when Tony called for a status check. “We owe Sam a big one.”

“I’m going to buy him a car,” said Tony empathically. “Does he want a car?”

“I can ask. So any updates on your end?” Bruce asked.

“I’m going to Alexander Pierce’s Christmas Party as Iron Man, on behalf of his niece,” said Tony. “I might even mingle. He’s Secretary of the World Security Council, by the way.”

Bruce wet his lips.

“I also did some serious thinking on Steve having no perishable skills,” Tony said. “What d’you think are the chances Steve learned to fiddle because Sherlock Holmes played the violin and Steve is that kind of overachieving dork?”

“Moderate to high.”

“I thought so,” Tony said gleefully. “Let’s form a superhero music band. The Stark Spangled Banner. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Steve can play fiddle, you can play a cajón and I’ll do air-guitar. Speaking of which: You, Steve, Malibu, yes?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. Book us a flight.”

(“Tony Stark wants to buy you a car,” Bruce told Sam later. Sam, bemused, said: “Tell him I want a Maserati for Christmas.” Bruce made him promise to send a reaction photo when Tony inevitably went overboard.)

oooo

Tony’s mansion in Malibu was a sprawling estate that looked like a futuristic spaceship, all white, sleek geometric curves, flat roofs, and glass. Steve was not impressed, and in fact muttered it looked like a monstrous cluster of white mushrooms growing on the face of a cliff. Bruce privately agreed.

Steve lightened up when Tony introduced them to his ‘bots.

“That’s Dummy,” said Tony, pointing at an old robot that had one arm, a clawed hand, and a dunce cap on top of its ‘head’. “He’s on timeout. Speaking of, Butterfingers! If you don’t put the lid on the blender this time, I’m donating you to Cal-Tech! See if I don’t! Oh, and the one sitting in his lonesome is U. Don’t mind him. He spends most of his time navel-gazing.”

Steve’s fingers wiggled at Dummy, and Dummy moved its three claws in response.

“So what’s the difference between these three and JARVIS? Besides the obvious,” Steve asked.

“JARVIS, don’t be offended. Cap speaks out of ignorance,” said Tony.

“None taken, sir,” said JARVIS. “Captain, I apologize in Sir’s behalf for his assumption that your question, which is quite legitimate, would be in any way offensive.”

“No respect,” Tony grumbled. “No respect at all. See if I do anything for you again.”

Nevertheless Tony explained the origin of each of his ‘bots at great length and detail. Dummy was Tony’s earliest effort, the result of him wanting to create a robot that could interact with the world and make decisions without a predetermined set of stimuli to collect (“Hardly put any thought on how to code him to make  _good_  decisions. Result - surprise, surprise - Dummy.”). U was the second generation upgrade, made to optimize decision making (“Without factoring execution time, unfortunately.”) Butterfingers made faster decisions but was not fundamentally different from U or Dummy. It was with JARVIS Tony did something different.

“The problem was the decision trees,” said Tony. “U and Butterfingers are always looking for the optimum route. The more sensory data they can collect, the more factors they have to consider, the longer the execution. It’s exhausting.”

“How can you find the best plan unless you know  _everything_? That’s not possible,” Steve said.

“Indeed, Captain,” said JARVIS. “The weakness of earlier A.I. development was on this very point. Trying to find the optimum route at all times is not only resource intensive but inherently impossible. Thus robots such as U spend most of their time evaluating rather than taking action.”

“So how did Tony solve the problem?” Steve asked.

“Sir has created me with a set of routines with predetermined patterns,” JARVIS replied. “They are triggered when I detect stimuli I am hard-coded to seek. I also have default routines for when I cannot find a predetermined routine, for a given stimuli and time limit, and this results in the creation of a subroutine. This way of decision-making is very much in accordance to how humans acquire habits, I believe. The optimal path is not sought. Rather, a trigger sets off a routine, which produces a result. If the result is ‘good’, then the habit is kept. If not, the habit is not adapted. The more often the trigger occurs and the habit produces favorable results, the more likely I am to use the habit. The only difference is that I can override and gain habits at will, whereas humans have a more difficult time gaining good habits and losing bad ones, as Sir’s habit of ignoring every and all safety protocols demonstrates.”

“No sassing me, Jay,” Tony said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” JARVIS replied coolly.

“But how do you determine what is good and what is not?” Steve asked. “What is good for Tony isn’t necessarily good for a person who wants to attack him.”

“You are correct,” said JARVIS, while Bruce and Tony shared a grin. “That is why I have a primary objective, which is assisting Sir and ensuring his well-being. All of my data acquisition is based on whether or not it increases my domain knowledge of Sir, and my decisions are calibrated to seek biometric, neural, and behavioral and speech patterns that indicate Sir’s well-being is being preserved.”

“You must have so much contradictory information,” said Steve, eyes twinkling.

“Indeed I do, Captain. It makes calibration, backup, and space optimization a great challenge,” said JARVIS.

Steve asked some more incisive questions concerning the way JARVIS did data management, such as what he did with data not often used, how he ensured his data was accurate, and what happened if he needed data that was deleted or taken off-site. Tony talked about Replication, Atomicity, and Availability, and Bruce tried to explain the concept of relational databases. Once Steve grasped the basic idea of relational data, Steve, of course, wanted to know what to do if one couldn’t determine the relationships beforehand. This got them into Structured Data versus Big/Unstructured Data, at which point Tony lost track of the original thread and went on a tirade about NoSQL being Ye Olde Hierarchical file-based data management by a different name. Steve looked ready to do some serious head-clutching when he finished ranting.

“Feeling out of your depth, Cap?” Tony drawled. “It’s okay. This is bleeding edge technology, and computers are for young people. It alright to admit you’re too old to learn.”

Steve glared at him. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m goading you to prove me wrong and have strong motivation to get up to speed.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You think this will make me learn faster?”

“Yes, and it’s working,” Tony grinned.

Hours later, Bruce found Steve scowling at a large quantity of print-outs, most of them syllabi for computer science courses. In the middle of the pile was a hand-drawn battle plan.

“Do you think a school will let me finish their two-year program in two months?” Steve asked.

Bruce studied Steve’s battle plan. It laid out which course to take in what order and grouped the ones that could be studied simultaneously. It had the required textbooks, equipment (with many questions marks), and weighted grading matrices for each course listed, too. With a few exceptions, Steve appeared to have put everything in reasonable order.

“Doesn’t hurt to try. Let me call the Deans.”

Agent Maria Hill called Bruce after he’d convinced a Dean her school would get a lot of good publicity if they’d helped Captain America plumbs the depths of a peak human condition mind.

“Dr. Banner, the purpose of Commander Rogers’ medical leave is  _rest and relaxation_ ,” she said.

“Steve finds studying very relaxing,” Bruce replied.

Hill sighed. “Please don’t let Commander Rogers go overboard. Also, while we encourage inter-team cooperation, we’d like you to exercise discernment and caution where the X-Men are concerned.”

“Hey, I’m not about to stop Steve from talking to old comrades and friends. Besides, Hank and Xavier are great scientists,” said Bruce.

Hill sighed again. “Why do I even bother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Tony, Steve and the Bots! Finally!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. I’ve been working on an original novella lately. 15/16 chapters written, but so much editing going on.
> 
> More Steve and Bucky dorkdom to follow. Re: violin, Bucky was horrible at it and quit early, whereas Steve eventually mastered playing out of pure stubbornness. ;)


	12. The Winter Soldier, Part 4

Their first week at Malibu, Tony and Pepper drove Bruce and Steve around to boutiques, beaches, spas and numerous restaurants/bistros/wineries they just _had_ to try. Though neither Bruce nor Steve was at ease with shopping expeditions or eating extravaganzas— anything that involved spending heart-stopping amounts of money, really— they were willing to humor their (extremely rich) hosts.

The tune changed after that first week. Steve sat at a desk like a general planning to win a war and went to work.

Steve spent the first three weeks thoroughly studying the prerequisites, using JARVIS as a resource. Tony complained Steve was being too anal, but would sneak in practice sheets and provide extensive feedback. Once the basics were mastered, Steve zipped through the remaining courses like a bullet train crushing eggs. Projects, tests, and quizzes were completed so quickly, the professors couldn't grade them fast enough. Just watching Steve type at speeds too fast for eyes to follow was awe inspiring.

Steve completed the two-year program in eight weeks. It was glorious and wonderful and Bruce wanted to tell everyone about it.

Which he did, with gusto. He sent Betty a postcard that had a picture of him and Steve, with a note saying "look who I adopted!" He stopped random strangers and gushed over Steve's accomplishments. Tony, when he wasn't mocking Bruce for being a Proud Papa, set Twitter on fire with a public announcement and geared to throw a huge party that involved strobe lights, loud music and lots of alcohol to celebrate (Pepper put her foot down on strippers).

Then Harry the Wizard sauntered out of one of Tony's many coat closets, and all celebration plans got tossed out of the window.

"You aren't bound by space-time-matter, are you?" Tony accused.

"I am, whatever my appearance and activities may suggest," Harry replied. He turned to Steve. "I have the memory viewing devices, Captain. Are you ready?"

Steve swallowed. "Yes."

Harry put down his canvas messenger bag, which bore the words: _This bag contains a gun, a bomb, a very large knife, and loads of drugs_. From it, he pulled out a shallow stone basin that had Runes carved on its edges. He also took out a stack of thick and coarse parchment cut to various sizes. The top sheet bore Chinese characters written in dark brown ink.

"A word of warning," Harry said as Steve took a seat. "Both things will show you your memories, but it won't make it personal. And if someone tampered with the memory itself, it's going to take advanced magic beyond my ken to retrieve them."

Steve nodded. "Understood."

"We'll wait outside, give you some privacy," said Bruce. "Let us know when you're done."

Tony pouted but didn't protest. The two of them left while Harry tapped his wand on Steve's temple, muttering Dog Latin. The last thing Bruce saw before the door closed was the stone basin filling up with something that looked a lot like silvery smoke.

Harry and Steve marched out ten minutes later. Harry looked so fantastically grim, Bruce wondered if something or someone died.

"Didn't work, huh?" Tony guessed. "So what's the problem?"

Harry somehow turned grimmer. "I got nothing. It didn't even work with me, and I've been using memory paper charms since age twelve. Apparently, your world is a lot stricter about magical memory access."

"Figures the rules aren't quite the same," Tony grumbled. "Now what?"

"I need to consult an expert in your world," Harry replied. "By the way, how long has it been for you since the last time I stopped by?"

"Ten weeks. FYI, your daily gaps from our perspective were anywhere between an hour to several months."

Harry swore like a British soldier. Bruce wondered if this was Dr. Watson's influence.

"Okay, then I better stay here until everything's resolved. Good thing I requested leave," Harry said.

The four of them returned to the lounge. Harry conjured a plain Manilla folder out of thin air and set it on the glass coffee table. The folder contained two sets of photos. One featured an ancient man who would've made a fantastic Gandalf if Gandalf preferred flamboyant purple robes over gray ones. The other showed an equally old man, who had long, defined eyebrows set at an almost diabolical angle, but otherwise didn't have much hair to speak of.

"These two are the memory magic experts in my world," Harry explained.

"Who's Merlin?" asked Tony.

"Albus Dumbledore: the headmaster of one of the best schools of magic in Europe, and one of the most powerful wizards in my world. He's also a mad genius. Oh, and _this_ ," Harry pointed out the other old man, "is Grandmaster Shin June Hu. If Dumbledore was the foremost expert in western magic, Mr. Shin was the foremost in eastern magic. His daughter taught me how to make and use paper charms."

"Let's ask Professor X. He could probably find them if they exist here," Bruce suggested.

"Oh, you live in the same universe as the X-Men. Good to know," Harry remarked.

Bruce picked up on the implications of that statement. So did Tony.

"You know what's gonna happen to us, don't you?" Tony observed. "You said we're comic book characters in your world. You read our story or watched our movie."

"I Wikipedia-ed you. So sort of yes and no." Harry scratched the back of his head. "Your world is a multiverse according to the comics. I haven't the faintest clue which one you lot belong to. For all I know, the only things you have in common with your comic character mainstream counterparts are your names and general appearance. But you can imagine based on what writers do for the sake of entertainment and good storytelling."

Bruce felt like throwing up a bit. Steve went pale and Tony face-palmed.

"Please don't tell me we belong to the darker and grittier publication," Tony moaned.

"I won't then."

"ARGH!"

"Thank you so much, Harry," said Steve over Tony's snarling and gnashing of teeth. "Going above and beyond doesn't begin to cover it. I mean, this isn't even your universe."

Harry turned a bit pink. "You're welcome. Eh, others would have called me a nosy meddler."

"You kind of are," Tony groused.

" _Tony_!" Steve admonished.

Tony rolled his eyes. " _Et Tu_ , Steve? Like I don't get enough of that from Pepper."

Tony eventually got around to calling Professor X. Xavier promised to scan the world through his telepathy amplifier, Cerebro, to look for Dumbledore or Shin. After some reflection, Harry summoned photos that showed younger versions of the two ancient wizards and dutifully sent digital photos of the whole lot to the X-Men.

Xavier got back to them an hour later. Bruce thought he heard Magneto and Dr. Hank McCoy growling and squawking about overexertion and possible cerebral hemorrhage in the background.

"I found Shin," said the Professor. He sounded like he was talking behind a handkerchief. "At least, I found someone who bears great resemblance to Harry the Wizard's version of him. He is younger; perhaps in his mid-thirties. He has similar powers as Harry, though I can't discount him being a mutant. These I managed to glean from before I was barred from his mind." He paused. "One moment, he's requesting a conversation over the Astral Plane." There was another, longer pause. "Wonderful. He agreed to meet you at my school today, Captain."

"What, like right now?" Bruce asked, startled.

"Yes, right now," Xavier confirmed. "You need not worry about transport, he said."

Bruce, Steve, Tony and Harry looked at each other.

"No time like the present," Steve decided.

"And we get to see Mr. Shin as a young man!" Harry said, grinning and waving his fists with glee. "I always wondered if he got scarier and grouchier as he got older."

"Should we ask Thor to join us?" Bruce pondered.

"Considering he knows the most about our world's magic, probably a good idea," Steve said.

"Might as well make it an Avengers outing, then," said Tony. "Hey, Prof, can you ask Shin to accommodate two master spies and an alien prince?"

As if to answer, Bruce caught a whiff of ozone. He turned to where the scent was strongest and saw an oval opening on a previously blank wall, through which he could see Professor Xavier's study.

"It's definitely him," said Harry, wide-eyed. "Portals are his other specialty. It's like the only mode of magical transport that isn't unpleasant."

"Good to know," Bruce muttered. "Are we ready for this?"

Steve turned grim and determined.

"We shall see."

oooo

Thor agreed to meet Bruce, Steve and Tony at the X-Mansion and was amenable to using unknown magical means to get there. So was Natasha Romanoff. Clint Barton, on the other hand, asked to be excused as he was lost.

"I don't believe you," Steve declared.

"I might also be in a dumpster," Barton added.

"I believe you."

"There was a girl and some people who hit me."

"Tell it to the Chaplain, Hawkeye. Get here when you can."

"You're so old," Barton quipped before ending the call.

Bruce, Tony, Steve and Harry walked through the magical portal shortly thereafter. The smell of ozone got stronger as they passed through, and Bruce momentarily felt like he was weightless. Then he found himself inside Professor X's study. Thor and Natasha were already present; so were Xavier, Magneto, and Logan. Harry brought up the rear and went white and rigid like he'd seen a ghost. Bruce followed his gaze and found someone who most certainly could be a younger version of Shin June Hu.

The Professor said he was in his thirties, but Bruce would've pegged him as twenties uninformed. He was clad in a long-sleeved white shirt made of cotton, black jeans and a coarse tan apron smeared with white powder. His face was astonishingly pretty. If he wasn't so muscular and broad shouldered, Bruce might've mistaken him for a tall woman. Unlike Harry the Wizard's Shin, his world's [Shin] had eyebrows and eyes set at a kinder angle and his straight black hair was long enough to brush his shoulders. Standing next to [Shin] was a woman who was as tall as he, had hair the shade of new snow, cheeks like the flesh of white peaches, and a dark pert mouth.

Steve stepped forward and offered a hand. "Hello, I'm Steve Rogers."

[Shin] smiled closed-mouthed as he and Steve shook hands. _Deaf?_ Bruce wondered. Sure enough, [Shin] started signing after letting go of Steve's hand. No one, however, seemed to know sign language, at least, not this version of it.

"Where is Barton when you need him," Natasha grumbled.

The Snowy Woman cleared her throat.

"He says: I'm Erik Shin Ransom. Please excuse me, I can't speak at the moment," she said, in a cultured tone and accent that strongly reminded Bruce of his old British academic peers.

"Are you…?" Steve asked.

Erik shook his head. His companion said: "He's neither deaf nor mute. He just can't open his mouth when he's inhaled history." She waved. "I'm Alex Xie. I act as Erik's mouthpiece when he can't talk."

"Well, _hello_ , there Alex," said Tony, with a Look in his eye and Lilt to his voice. "Might as well do introductions while we're at it. I'll make this quick. Tony Stark. You know who I am."

"Well, hello, Mr. Stark," said Alex Xie, as she regarded Tony politely. "I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?"

Everyone laughed at the look of pure affront on Tony's face. Proper introductions commenced shortly thereafter. Whereas Erik seemed to recognize Thor, Xavier, Magneto and, of course, Tony (but none too impressed with the latter), Alex appeared not to have the faintest clue who anyone was. Harry the Wizard stammered and kept staring at Erik like he couldn't believe his eyes. Bruce wondered why he was acting like this. Harry didn't seem shy before, and he'd been eager to meet this world's version of Shin.

"We were given to understand one of you lost important personal memories and need Erik's help in restoring them," Alex began, as soon as everyone settled down.

"You understand rightly," said Thor, arms crossed and hands tucked under his armpits. "Before we proceed, I wish to ask you a question."

Alex tilted her head. "Go ahead."

"In Asgard, those who have sworn fealty to Muninn and Huginn do not accept payment. Does this hold true in Midgard?" Thor asked.

"Correct. We received freely, so we give away freely," Alex confirmed.

Bruce let out a relieved sigh. He'd been worrying if his world's magic people would demand a pound of flesh or half of Steve's life in exchange for the restore.

"That puts my heart at ease," said Thor. "Nevertheless, I request two boons in addition to Steven's lost memories."

"And they are?"

"Oaths," Thor said. "Swear to me you will restore onto Steven his memories and his memories alone."

 _Oh, good one_ , Bruce thought. Natasha smirked and Tony gave Thor the thumbs up.

"We expected such a request, and prepared ourselves accordingly," Alex said. "This we vow: if Erik gives Captain Rogers a memory that does not belong to him, all of our own memories are forfeit. Fair?"

Erik frowned at Alex, who countered his look with a stern one. The two quickly transitioned to a glaring match.

"Most fair," said Thor, interrupting the silent argument. "Now the second boon: swear to me you and your companion will not use your magic to harm the Captain."

"We swear," replied Alex. "I shall draw the contract. Who will represent the Captain as his mage?"

Thor placed his hands on his knees and sat back with a flourish. "I," he said.

"Then it is settled," said Alex. "Mr. Watson, could you act as mediator?"

"Uh, sure," said Harry. "Just so you know, I've never mediated an unbreakable vow before."

Alex smiled warmly. "You should do just fine."

Harry sat between Thor and Alex. Erik took out a scroll from a tiny disembodied portal and unfurled it on Xavier's desk. Thor offered Alex and Erik a small dagger. Alex made a small incision on her inner forearm with it. Blood flowed up, hovered in the air for a second, then scattered over the scroll and formed letters. The words seemed to burn right into the coarse fibers as they briefly glowed gold.

"Is the oath clear and according to our spoken promise?" Alex asked Harry.

Harry's eyes roamed over the now black words. "Yes."

"Is it good to make binding?"

"Yes."

"Do you agree to mediate this oath?"

"I do."

"Then let it be so," Alex intoned.

She signed the paper with a brush pen coated with her blood. Erik cleaned Thor's dagger with an antiseptic solution and returned it to its owner. Thor cut his palm and marked the document with a bloody thumbprint. Finally, Erik stamped his insignia on the document using a jade seal and a bright red paste.

"What will happen if that document is destroyed?" Natasha asked after Alex handed over the scroll to Thor.

"You lose the document," Alex replied with a shrug. "Don't worry. Destroying the thing that represents the oath doesn't annul the oath." She turned to Steve. "Do you have any questions before we proceed?"

"How long is it going to take?" Steve asked.

"Not very long. Perhaps a few seconds at most."

"What will it feel like?"

"Like you've studied a complex subject for twelve hours overnight," Alex replied. "Speaking of which, is there a bed where Captain Rogers can nap on? He's going to need the sleep to process."

Xavier mentioned the dormitories and the infirmary, and Tony rambled on about the California King sized guest beds he had back in Maui. Logan took a long drag from his cigar. Then he stalked off to a side closet, pulled out a blanket, and lay it over an overstuffed burgundy chaise. He then grabbed a navy blue cushion framed with silver tassels and dropped it on one end.

"Here you go, bub."

Steve smiled. "Thanks, Logan." Then Steve turned back to Alex.

"What memories are you restoring? I mean, what exactly am I missing? What's the difference between that and the stuff I just forgot?"

"That's a very astute question," said Alex. "I'll do my best to explain. I'm not the memory expert here, and one who _is_ can't talk."

Erik rubbed the back of his neck, radiating an air of apology. Steve shrugged, in a gesture of " _I know it can't be helped._ " In contrast, Harry the Wizard looked deeply moved.

"It is true we forget things all the time," Alex began. "But forgetting a memory is not the same as losing it. We do recover forgotten memories, which implies certain memories stay with us for the long term. The type of memory that concerns you, Captain Rogers, are _Significant Moments_. These are the memories that frame who you are, explain your life story, and guide how you make decisions. These are fiercely protected, often at the expense of your memories regarding the sequence and details that form these Significant Moments."

Bruce nodded. What Alex said was in line with his readings on human memory, and how faulty human brains were when it came to storing time and facts.

"If you merely lost your memories concerning the details of your past, we wouldn't have worried much," Alex continued. "But Erik discovered you're missing memories of Significant Moments. Now, you _can_ forget these. We do not have the phrase 'I forgot myself' without reason. But the thing is, you usually recover them on your own because, in general, you don't lose them."

"How can Erik tell the difference between forgot and missing?" Tony asked.

"Ah, well, this is where analogy and metaphor fails," said Alex sheepishly. "Erik once described memory as two bookshelves: one housing Sequence, and the other housing Significance. Erik's ability allows him to know if a book has been damaged or if pages have been ripped out." She sighed. "Of course, real memory isn't like a library, let alone a book. But for illustrative purposes…"

"I understand," said Steve. "And I can tell you're being honest. Go ahead, I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" Alex asked.

Steve looked determined. "Yes."

Erik nodded once. Then he puckered his lips and breathed over Steve.

"Done," Erik said, shocking Bruce to the core with his musical baritone. Meanwhile, Steve grimaced under a hand.

"That's it?" Tony exclaimed.

"Were you expecting foolish wand-waving or silly incantations, Mr. Stark?" Erik drawled, hitting ever lower voice registers.

Harry stuffed a cushion to his face and let out a series of muffled giggles.

Tony scowled. "I liked you better when you weren't talking."

Bruce ushered Steve to the burgundy chaise. Steve sat down but kept frowning and blinking like an exhausted child on the verge of falling asleep yet still wanted to play.

"Go on. Take a nap," said Bruce.

"I have questions," Steve protested weakly.

Bruce smiled and shook his head.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you get to ask them."

oooo

"So why did it have to be today?" Tony asked as soon as Steve drifted uneasily to sleep.

"I tend to attract dangerous people," replied Erik. "Add two superhero groups to the mix and the potential for catastrophe triples. No offense. Anyway, I found it's better to blitz through and leave quickly. Speaking of which—"

Erik pulled out from his apron three white business cards that bore his seal. The stamped logo on the cards was bright red, the same shade of red as the paste he used earlier. They also had a phone number printed in black.

"Backups; in case something goes wrong or Captain Rogers' sleep is interrupted." Erik gave one card to Thor, one to Xavier, and the third to Harry. "One on-site copy, one off-site, and one offshore for DR. No magic necessary. Just place it on Steve's forehead and you're set. Use that number to call me if the card doesn't work."

"Are you in IT operations, by any chance?" Tony asked.

"I own a telecommunications company. I do most of the IT work."

"The Magical Mobile Network?" Harry asked.

Erik sighed. "Yes. The bane of me and my late mother's existence."

"Can't quit?" said Harry, full of knowing and sympathy.

Erik shook his head glumly. "The world and Alex won't let me."

"It's for your own good," said Alex loftily, "and I'm quoting _you_."

"Yes, Alex, you live and breathe for the sake of my good," Erik harrumphed.

"How did you discover your ability?" Xavier asked keenly.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm particularly fascinated by the differences between your ability and mine."

Erik gave Xavier a look.

"I'll tell you how when you can describe to a non-telepath like me what it's like to read people's minds and how you realized you can gaze into their thoughts as they flit through their brains."

Xavier smiled ruefully. "There are no words. Forgive me, I should've realized. On a related note, may I ask how this particular ability of yours manifest itself?"

Erik drew in a deep breath.

"I can breathe in the memory of a mammoth as it once walked the earth. I can remember the world as it was being created. When I glean the memory of a world leader who attended a policy meeting, for that moment, I _am_ that leader who's recalling the meeting as it actually happened."

There was a short, breath-ceasing pause.

"Does this mean you can see classified meetings or secret information as it's being entered?" Natasha asked sharply.

"For starters," said Erik. "I can see people as they're entering their pins and passcodes. I can also shift out truly significant events from the non-significant ones, all appearance to the contrary. Remember the two bookshelf analogy."

Natasha let out a low whistle as she (and everyone else) took in the implications.

"I'm surprised certain agencies and groups haven't tried to put you under their control," Magneto remarked.

"Ah, well, people like me are hard to find, let alone control," said Erik, smiling crookedly. "My ability isn't _rare_ , per se. You know us as mediums or seers. How easy is it to tell a real one from a liar or a lunatic who thinks she's a poached egg?"

Magneto smirked and Xavier chuckled.

"Your problems don't end even if you capture me," Erik went on. "I can feed you lies and you'd be none the wiser. Even if you can tell if I'm lying, I can tell you just enough partial truths that will lead you to destruction. Knowing how time will pan out has its perks." He shook his head. "Anyone who has brains can tell I'm just not worth the risk. Little kids or brainwashed teens, on the other hand…" he trailed off.

"Always the children," Xavier said mournfully. "Shin and Xie, if you are ever in need of a place to stay and keep these children safe, you are welcome to my school."

"You and your bleeding heart, Charles," Magneto sneered, and yet he sounded strangely fond.

"Thank you for your kind offer, Professor," said Erik with a little bow. "We better get going. This world's Harry the Wizard needs to be rescued from his locked cupboard."

Harry sucked in an unsteady breath. "Is there…?"

"Shock and Jean. And yes, I'll make sure they find him."

Harry's eyes welled up. " _Thank you_."

"Here's a prophetic word for all of you," Erik said he and Alex linked arms. "What's the connection between nuclear bombs and swimming suits?"

Everyone stared at each other. "Bikini," Tony answered at length.

Erik nodded once. "On the same vein, what is the connection between Captain America and a cure for the X-gene?"

"What cure?" growled Magneto. "Mutants are not a disease to be eradicated!"

Erik didn't waver and his eyes were steady.

"I never said it was. Harry, remember what kind of world we live in. Think."

And with that, Erik and Alex vanished. A second later, Agent Barton jogged in through the still open portal, smelling strongly of sewage.

"Hi, what did I miss?"

All the Avengers minus Steve glared at him.

" _Everything_ ," Natasha grumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our brain’s tendency to distort and forget the past, particularly facts, dates, and numbers, is based on my readings/viewings of _Your Money and Your Brain, Bozo Sapiens: Why to Err is Human_ and _Scientific Secrets for a Powerful Memory_. Simply put, even when we know something important, we don’t remember them accurately unless we use mnemonics or other such memory techniques to ensure accuracy. This is why we should write things down. Oral cultures had their own checks and balances to ensure accuracy (interesting note: oral cultures viewed Written Word as less accurate than memory because you can always alter the letters or destroy documents; formal learning places in such cultures were aware of the telephone game phenomenon and created guards and techniques against them).
> 
> Erik and Alex are characters who feature in the original story I wrote in the last six months. Erik’s ability to see any and all points of Time is a key component of said story. Let me know what you think!


	13. The Winter Soldier, Part 5

While Steve slept, Xavier, Logan, Magneto, the Avengers, plus Harry the Wizard discussed Erik Shin’s parting words.

“Okay, first things first, can magic people see the future?” Tony started.

“Sure,” Harry replied. “How, I have no idea; I never studied divination. Besides, in my world, people who have the sight are extremely rare. I met one real seer, and I thought she was a right fraud until Dumbledore told me otherwise.”

“So it’s possible Erik Shin can really see the future,” said Xavier.

“Possible. Probable, even.”

“Disregard the validity of fortune-telling for now,” Magneto interjected tersely. “This… _cure_ he hinted at, that’s far more relevant and plausible. There have been numerous attempts to subdue and eradicate mutant kind over the years. The Sentinels, the Weapon X program, the Legacy virus … it is to be noted our enemies went from using brute force to biological warfare.”

“As brute force proved insufficient and the body of knowledge concerning genetics grew,” Xavier agreed. “Turning certain gene mutations ‘on’ and ‘off’ have been demonstrated in laboratory settings. No doubt certain individuals extrapolated the possibility of ‘turning off’ the X-gene from these results. However, the relationship between this and the Super Soldier Serum, which I presume was what Shin meant by Captain America, is less certain.”

“The Super Soldier Serum has never been successfully recreated,” Natasha pointed out.

“Plenty of knock-offs, though, with varying degrees of success,” Clint added.

Bruce mulled over Dr. Erskine’s notes on the Super Soldier Serum in the thoughtful silence that followed. How would he use them to turn off the X-gene?

“Inactivating mutated genes or replacing them, that’s gene therapy,” he reasoned. “We’re still in the early stages, but there’s been a lot of promising research. Stem cells. Cancer treatment. Therapeutic viruses.” A flash insight. “ _Extremis_.”

“Which happens to be a SHIELD sponsored Super Soldier Serum recreation effort,” said Tony with a grand gesture. “Extremis chemically re-codes the DNA of the entire organism. Rapid exponential replication with intense heat as a byproduct. Narrow it down to target the X-gene, and…”

There was silence for a beat; short, heavy and full of implication.

“How effective and reliable is this Extremis?” Xavier asked, at last.

“Fifty-Fifty success rate. Failure leads to literal explosive death. The effects were nowhere near as permanent as the Serum, but while it lasted … the results were comparable,” Tony answered.

“When did it become viable for human use?”

“This year, maybe, sort of. The head scientist tried to force-recruit Bruce to help her fix the fifty percent chance of death glitch. Didn’t end well for her or her sponsor. Long story short, Bruce, Steve, War Machine, and yours truly gutted the lab and destroyed all the samples. The minions in cahoots are in custody, and the sponsor and the head scientist are dead.”

“Who has their data?” asked Logan.

“Just me. I’m using it to develop a viable anesthetic for Steve,” Bruce replied.

“Ah, yes, the accelerated healing factor, making most drugs ineffective,” Magneto drawled with dark humor. “I suppose it’s fortunate you’re the one safekeeping the data, Banner.”

“Thanks,” said Bruce wryly.

“Was the Extremis ever injected to mutants?” Xavier asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Ordinary human subjects only.”

A longer bout of silence descended upon the group this time. Bruce assumed everyone, like him, were speculating whether the existence of Extremis translated to the existence of an X-gene suppressing agent. Where would you even start finding out if such a thing existed? Would even Natasha and Barton, the Avengers’ two master spies, know where to look?

Bruce heard a noise. He looked down and saw Steve shift and mumble softly while still asleep. A deep frown creased Steve’s otherwise smooth features. As he watched Steve’s fretful sleep, Bruce felt a sob deep within him claw up to his throat. _Why? Why does this always happen?_

“Such turbulent dreams,” Xavier murmured.

The last rays of sunlight for the day framed the Professor like a copper-gold halo as he wheeled around his desk. Was he thinking to give Steve some psychic comfort? Or did Xavier see something of interest in Steve’s dreams? But before Bruce could ask, the window framing the sunset exploded.

Xavier fell to the ground. For a fraction of a second, Magneto's face was a rictus of shock and rage, the white of his eyes clearly visible. Then there was another blast, and Magneto went down bleeding.

“Charles!” choked Magneto, clawing his side and reaching out to Xavier at the same time.

“E-Erik,” Xavier gasped. Dark blood bubbled out of his mouth. “Logan. The children…!”

Steve’s eyes flew open. On the next blink, Steve stood braced against the wall, looking out of the broken window.

“SITREP?”

“Sniper!” Clint called out from his own cover. “Xavier and Magneto down. Four shots. Fifty meters. West side.”

Steve nodded once.

“Natasha, Clint, evac all residents to safety. Thor, provide air support and take out any hostiles. Bruce, look after Max and Xavier. Logan and I will pursue. Harry?”

Harry pointed his wand at the outdoors and muttered, “ _Homenum Revelio_.” Two bright spots appeared in the nearby woods. They were slowly approaching.

“Thanks,” said Steve, and then vanished. Logan leaped through the shattered window shortly after, adamantium claws unsheathed. Thor took flight, and thunder and lightning followed his wake.

“Excuse you, Captain How-Dare-You-Ignore-Me, what am I supposed to do, just sit around and look pretty?” Tony groused. “Hey, Harry, can you—”

Harry pointed his wand to the sunset and cried, “ _Accio_ _latest Iron Man Armor_!”

There was a beat. Then the dissembled pieces of Tony’s Mark 42 suit came zooming in through the still-open magic portal. The breastplate hit the burgundy chaise, ricochet into all the other pieces, and left everything scattered all over the floor.

“…Oops,” said Harry, chagrined, and Tony face-palmed.

An alarm was blaring by the time a fully-armored Tony joined Thor in the skies. A handful of adults and twenty-odd students were in the hallway, all in an orderly line.

“Oh, cool, you guys know the drill. Carry on, we’ll cover your six,” said Clint. When a student who had long furry tail got a whiff of him and gagged, he quipped: “Yeah, that’s what happens when someone throws you into a dumpster. Get over it.”

“We need two stretchers! Xavier and Magneto were shot!” Bruce told the nearest teacher, a black woman who had an impressive white mohawk. Before she could answer, Harry joined them in the hallway with Magneto and Xavier floating in the air behind him.

“Don’t shoot! I’m a friendly wizard!” cried Harry, his hands and wand up in the air.

“Wizard. Right,” said White Mohawk skeptically, her palms crackling with electricity. She turned to Bruce. “And who are you?”

“Bruce Banner. Avenger. I’m sorry, I know you’re suspicious, but Xavier really needs medical attention.”

White Mohawk shot a quick look at the two elderly mutants and nodded. She then led the way to the X-Mansion’s Infirmary without another word. Along the way, Harry cast spells that a) created protective, bullet-proof domes of light over the mutant students, b) made Clint’s quiver to refill itself (“Infinite Arrows! Oh, yeah, baby!” he crowed before he started shooting in abandon), c) turned furniture into human-sized chess pieces that attacked hostiles, and d) turned a burly SWAT geared individual into a sea urchin.

“I like how you fight, Wizard,” said White Mohawk when Harry conjured a flock of birds that viciously pecked at another SWAT team member and set them on fire at the same time.

“Ta. I like you, too,” replied Harry, grinning. To Bruce, he said, “Go! We’ll keep them at bay.”

Dr. Hank McCoy was waiting for them in the med bay. Xavier was no longer conscious. Magneto was clearly in pain, but refused to succumb or budge from Xavier’s side.

“My stars and garters,” McCoy grumbled as he carefully lowered the levitating Xavier to a table. “Can you lend me a hand, please, Dr. Banner? And Magneto, stop trying to operate on your own self. I highly doubt the bullets that hit you were made of metal.”

Sure enough, the bullet McCoy pried out of Xavier’s side was made of special plastic.

“Slug?” Natasha asked, appearing like a disembodied spirit.

“I wouldn’t know,” Bruce grunted. “Help yourself.”

Natasha examined the bullet without touching.

“It has an injection mechanism.”

“ _What_?”

“Good heavens, they do,” said Dr. McCoy, holding another bullet aloft between tweezers. “The kind you use to sedate large animals. Nasty. There’s some residue left. I could…”

“Don’t bother,” Magneto grunted between clenched teeth. “We know what it is.”

“We do? What is it?”

Bruce breathed through his nose as he steadied himself.

“An X-gene suppressant.”

~*~

Hank McCoy didn’t press Bruce to explain how he knew the plastic bullet-injectors contained an X-gene suppressant. Instead, he focused on preparing Magneto for surgery, muttering instructions to Bruce and growling at Magneto to stop fighting him, goshdarn it.

Magento went under many minutes later. Bruce was just allowing himself a breather when an explosion rocked the med bay.

McCoy crouched over his two patients, shielding them. Bruce clung to the operating table as he knees buckled. A compact body flew overhead. When the tremors subsided, Bruce looked up and found the separating wall had turned to rubble.

 _Crunch_ ; Bruce heard heavy boots, stepping on the debris. A man clad in black from goggles, facemask to toe marched into view. His dark hair was long and shaggy. He had an odd swinging gait, like his left was heavier than his right.

It probably is, Bruce realized with a start. The man’s left arm was made of _metal_ _._

The man aimed his gun. Bruce froze. But before the man could pull the trigger, Natasha Romanoff dropped on his shoulders and wrapped her strong thighs around his neck.

The man bucked like a rodeo horse. Natasha clamped down and drew a garroting wire. The man caught it with his flesh hand, right under his chin. The two grappled each other for a beat. Then Metal Arm smashed his back against a wall, stunning Natasha. Next moment, he reached over and threw her off.

Natasha landed hard with a pained grunt. But soon she regained her footing and tossed a small disk. It landed on the metal arm and sent blue paralyzing pulses.

“EMP,” Natasha explained as she pulled Harry the Wizard — the compact body from earlier — back to his feet.

“Thanks, sorry,” Harry gasped. He was white as a sheet, and Bruce didn’t like the way he was wheezing.

“Shut up. Breathe and focus,” Natasha barked with a grimace.

Metal Arm wrenched the EMP device from his prosthesis. After flexing his metal fingers, he pulled out a switchblade and lunged at Magneto. McCoy body-slammed him away. While the two exchanged furious blows, too fast for Bruce’s eyes to follow, Harry took a puff from an inhaler. In the next blink, he was breathing well enough to croak, “ _Protego_.”

A now-familiar protective dome of light encircled Magneto and Xavier. “Damn my EIA,” Harry muttered as he quickly plastered small pieces of parchment adorned with brown Runes all over their operating tables. Once finished, Harry pointed his wand at Metal Arm, shouting, “ _Stupify!_ ”

Metal Arm grabbed McCoy and spun him around, making him take the full brunt of the spell. McCoy went limp. Metal Arm brutally kicked him to Natasha, pinning her under his weight. Harry dove after the two, muttering, “Shitshitshit, _Rennervate, Rennervate, Leviosa!”_

Metal Arm stabbed the dome of light. It didn’t budge. He then punched it with his metal arm. Same result. Harry fired two spells in quick succession when McCoy started to stir, but Metal Arm dodged the beams of red light with the smallest of movements. At last, the man took out a small grenade launcher and fired.

Smoke filled the room. The vapor made Bruce’s eyes water. Coughing and sputtering, Harry flicked his wand. A strong wind started to blow. When the smoke cleared, Metal Arm was nowhere to be seen.

“I know the man who attacked,” said Natasha, breaking the silence.

“Who?” asked Bruce. He couldn’t recognize his own voice.

“Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“How did _you_ hear about him?” Harry asked.

“Five years ago I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran, somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff, I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me.” Natasha pulled up her shirt to show them the bullet wound on the side of her belly. “A Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye bikinis.”

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now,” said Bruce sarcastically; it was either that or hysteria. “So why are you telling us this?”

“What would Rogers or Stark do if I tell them?”

“Chase after him, I guess.”

“And that’s a dead end. I know, I’ve tried. He’s a ghost story senior agents use to scare baby agents.”

“Except he’s very much real and alive,” said McCoy, as he dusted his blue fur. “You’re probably right in thinking it’s unwise to chase after the Winter Soldier, my dear. He was certainly a formidable opponent. If my supporting vote is what you’re after, you have it.”

That moment, they heard a thunderclap and the roar of Iron Man repulsors. Tony landed on top of the broken wall and dropped Clint to his feet. Thor landed next to them as lightning tore through the dark skies overhead. Finally, Logan and Steve clambered into view. Steve looked gutted and ashen.

No, worse, Bruce realized with a cold pang. Steve looked _defeated._

“All clear,” said Tony, after raising his face-plate. “Did you get the sniper, dear ancient ones, or were you feeling too old for a merry chase?”

Logan raised his gore-covered claws pointedly. “Got one. Would’ve got his spotter if Rogers didn’t freak out.”

Natasha frowned. “You freaked out.”

“I...” Steve swallowed. “Willie. It was _Willie_.”

“Who the hell is Willie?” Tony asked.

“Willie Burnside.”

One could’ve heard a pin drop in the stunned silence that ensued. Bruce could barely breathe, so unnerved was he at the unexpected name.

“…Burnside?” Tony echoed. “As in, member of team Captain America until he went gaga Burnside?”

Steve flinched. Bruce heard the Other Guy roaring in his ears and brutally suppressed the urge.

“He and Jack Monroe went AWOL in 1945, I recall,” said Natasha carefully. “The others died early. How could he have survived until now, then?”

Steve looked away; said nothing.

The silence stretched.

“We need to positively identify the body as Burnside,” said Natasha.

“Take him to SHIELD, you mean,” Steve muttered.

Natasha nodded. Steve drew in an unsteady breath, eyes closed. When they opened again, Steve looked resolute.

“No.”

Natasha tilted her head sideways. Inquiring without questioning.

“We don’t know if we can trust SHIELD on this matter,” said Steve flatly. “And I know how identifying the dead works. You need a baseline. DNA. Teeth. Other identifying marks. SHIELD won’t have that info because former Director Carter made sure no one had it. All they have left is my word.” Another unsteady intake of breath. “And I’m telling you … that person over there is _Willie Burnside_.”

Natasha folded her arms.

“We still need to figure out who sent him, and how he survived this long.”

“That doesn’t require anonymous SHIELD scientists pawing on Willie,” Steve snapped.

“Woah, there, Rogers,” Logan cut in. “Widow’s got a point. You might have warm fuzzies for your old chum, but he’s the rat bastard who shot Chuck.” He bared his teeth. “ _And_ he attacked a school full of kiddies. This is serious sh!t, bub, and I’m gonna get to the bottom of this pile of turd, starting with an autopsy. When I’m done, you’re free to lit a funeral pyre for Willie for all I care.”

Steve’s jaw clenched.

“Fine. Do whatever you need to do to find out how he survived.”

“And then?”

“Cremate him.”

~*~

 _Thank God for magic_ , Bruce thought fervently in the aftermath of the attack.

Truly, if weren’t for Harry the Wizard, it would’ve taken the X-men and the twenty-odd frightened mutant students many months, if not years, before they recovered from the partial destruction of their safe haven. Once everyone was accounted for, Harry bustled around, waving his wand enthusiastically about, as he restored large portions of the X-Mansion in a matter of minutes. That is, when he wasn’t transfiguring bits of fluff into teddy bears, conjuring cups of hot cocoa…

…putting flame-freezing charms on mutant students perpetually engulfed in flames, so Captain America can give them a much-needed hug without sustaining second-degree burns…

“I wanna keep him,” Tony muttered. “Let’s keep him.”

“I’m pretty sure that constitutes as interdimensional kidnapping,” said Bruce.

“Not if I entice him into staying.”

Harry took a break after restoring most the X-Mansion’s infrastructure. Steve sat next to him, holding a snoozing, preschool-age mutant.

“Thank you so much everything.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s nothing. Magic is really good at this sort of thing.”

“You could’ve left when they attacked, and no one would’ve blamed you.”

“I know the importance of not giving anyone the honor of ruining your life,” said Harry, his green eyes bright against the pallor of his face. “That’s what they want, isn’t it? Whoever it is that ordered the attack. Ruin the mutants, you, anyone, for their own benefit.”

Steve nodded slowly.

“You should go home. You have family waiting, don’t you?”

“Yes and I will. As soon as I put a couple of healing charms on Mags and X. Oh, and I have to de-transfigure the SWAT guy. Can’t be fun, being a sea urchin. Plus, he might have…”

That moment, a pale young woman who had her dark hair done up like a cartoon Shinto Priestess and a blond-haired young man dressed in tweeds and argyle, who had a ferocious discoloring scar trisecting the flesh around his right eye, came bursting out of a broom closet.

“Harry, goddamnit, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?” the young woman exclaimed. Then she took in the destroyed lawn around them, Harry’s guilty weariness, and started berating Harry for being a _stubborn martyring idiot_ who couldn’t help but sacrifice his skinny arse for every person in trouble that came his way.

“We’re leaving,” said the young man after she finished yelling.

“I still got stuff to do,” Harry protested.

“ _Leaving_ ,” the young man repeated firmly. Then he and his female companion bodily hauled Harry into the broom closet they came from and shut the door behind them.

They had perhaps a single blink to regroup from the sudden, whirlwind of change when Steve’s SHIELD-issued cellphone chirped with impeccable timing.

“It’s Nick. Meeting tomorrow at the Triskelion at two.”

“Did he mention why?” Bruce asked.

“No.”

All the Avengers exchanged a look.

“Let’s find out what he wants,” said Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Notes: The plot thickens >:) Blond young man is Neville Longbottom, and Shinto Priestess Hair is my OC Julia Lestrade. Both are as depicted in [A Study In Magic](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7578572/1/A-Study-in-Magic), my HP-Sherlock crossover fanfic.
> 
> EIA = Exercise Induced Asthma.
> 
> Happy Reading! BOC  
> [booksofchange.com](http://www.booksofchange.com)


	14. The Winter Soldier, Part 6

Bruce talked to Hank McCoy while Steve and Tony arranged a trip to the Triskelion (presumably).

"The Extremis subjects had to be re-dosed once every thirty days. If the suppressant uses the same host as Extremis, chances are Xavier and Magneto will regain their powers in a month."

"Let's hope so," said McCoy gravely. "By the way, would the Avengers be amenable to a few of our members getting to the bottom of the attack?"

Bruce turned to Natasha and Barton, who nodded. "Hey, we're curious, too."

Thor cornered Bruce for a talk afterward.

"I trust Steven to lead us well," he said. "But his once thought dead comrades returning as our enemies, it can shake the best of us. Can I trust you to watch his back?"

"I'll do my best," Bruce promised.

Then he went away looking for Steve. He found Steve inside the destroyed med bay, alone, crouching on the floor, and surveying the rubble in Cap Mode. The bleak look was back.

"You saw the third attacker," Steve murmured, after a long beat.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah."

Steve continued to stare at the floor.

"I know him."

Bruce intended to keep quiet, to let Steve work it out, but couldn't help himself. "How?"

Steve took in a lungful of air. Exhaled.

"I don't know, but I know him."

oooo

Steve didn't mention Metal Arm's possible identity to anyone else. Instead, Steve focused their attention on the SWAT member turned Sea Urchin.

"Do we have a way to contact Erik Shin?" Steve asked.

"He left his business card," said Tony, brandishing it.

Erik teleported back immediately after Tony called. When Steve told him Harry the Wizard turned a man into a Sea Urchin with a wave a wand, Erik shook upturned clawed hands, muttering: "How can?! HOW CAN?!" He then spent the next two hours drawing an enormous mandala with chalk and some judicious sprinkling of blood.

"Wave of a wand," Erik grumbled for the umpteenth time as he crouched before the finished mandala. "I'm going to de-transfigure him, now. Please brace yourself."

Everyone aimed their weapons at the Sea Urchin placed in the center. Erik sighed, then placed his palms on the ground.

The mandala lines lit up. A pillar of light appeared. It blinded them for a moment. Then the light faded, and Bruce saw a man in the center. With a jolt, Bruce realized he knew him.

"Rumlow," said Steve, while Clint swore extensively.

"Cap," Rumlow returned, shakily.

Steve's countenance turned stony. "Care to explain why you attacked a school full of kids?"

"Whoa, whoa, hold it, Big Guy," said Rumlow, raising a hand up. "I had my orders. It's nothing personal."

Steve marched towards Rumlow, hands clenched into fists.

"Oh, c'mon, you're not the type," Rumlow scoffed.

"I'm not," Steve agreed. "But they are."

As though on cue, Natasha, Logan and the rest of the X-Men approached.

"We ain't got time for your bullsh!t," Logan growled with his claws drawn. "Someone get Marie. Let's see if she can absorb Chuck's powers."

It turned out Anna Marie, aka Rogue, _could_ absorb Mutant powers from one whose x-gene was temporarily deactivated. Once she gained Xavier's telepathy with his blessings, Rogue siphoned Rumlow's secrets from his mind. It was easy enough to do; Natasha asked probing questions and Rumlow couldn't help but think the answers.

"Taking Magneto and the Professor down, it's part of Phase Two," said Marie with a look of concentration. "Phase Two involves… an algorithm that uses demographics and social media data to evaluate every citizen and identify those who pose a threat."

"Threat against whom?" Steve asked.

Marie licked her lips.

"Hydra."

oooo

"I thought Hydra dissolved after World War Two!" Tony shouted inside the X-Men's dual rotor helicopter, which was flying the Avengers and the X-Men to DC.

"Operation Paperclip," said Natasha grimly as she typed away at a Stark Tablet. "The United States government recruited over a thousand German scientists, engineers, and technicians to gain military advantage for the Cold War. Many of them were former Nazi party members. Arnim Zola was one of them."

"The scientist behind Red Skull?" Bruce cried.

"The one and only," said Natasha with a terrible smirk. "Now check this out: SHIELD employed him in 1946, and he stayed under their employ until his death in 1972." She snorted. "And here I thought I was going clean, joining SHIELD."

Clint patted her elbow consolingly.

Bruce dug his fingers into his knuckles. _You can't shake hands with the devil and say you didn't mean it…_

"So SHIELD is compromised," Steve muttered. "Been compromised since the beginning, probably. That said, I can think of at least a dozen people there who aren't. We need to take care of them. Tony?"

"Way ahead of you, Captain Spangles," said Tony. "I turned our super-secret superhero club into a real thing. Got the documents and lawyer fees to prove it. If any SHIELD person needs it, we can grant them asylum as employees. What should we call them, by the way? Avengers Affiliates?"

Steve smiled crookedly.

"How about Aegis?"

oooo

Tony directed the X-Men to land the helicopter on his River Road mansion's lawn. The driver-side door of the lone Maserati parked in the driveway opened as soon as they landed, and Sam Wilson stepped out.

"You called Sam?" Bruce asked Steve.

Steve nodded. "I wanted advice on POWs."

Bruce and Steve introduced Sam to the others and vice versa ("You should've told me I was gonna meet all the Avengers and all the X-Men," Sam groused, wide-eyed). Then everyone entered the mansion. Nick Fury was waiting for them inside an alcove without windows. He looked like he'd survived a battle against an armed jaguar after getting run over by a truck.

"About damn time," Fury growled. "You know how hard it is to wait when you have a lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, and one hell of a headache?"

"Don't forget your collapsed lung," said a doctor-looking person.

"Oh, yeah, let's not forget that," Fury grunted.

"I thought the meeting was tomorrow," said Steve.

Fury somehow shrugged with just his face. "My wife kicked me out."

"Are you talking metaphor or real?" Tony quipped. "More importantly: How did you get in here? I put security protocols specifically to keep you out."

That moment, Maria Hill and Tony's old Physical Therapy nurse stepped into view. "Sharon Carter. I'm Agent Thirteen," said the latter.

Tony faced-palmed. "And people wonder why I'm paranoid!"

Hill explained what had happened. The Winter Soldier—the one with a metal arm—had gone after Fury shortly after an informal meeting with Secretary Pierce.

"What was the meeting about?" Steve asked.

"Project Insight," answered Fury. "Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites. Once we got them in the air they'll never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courtesy Stark Industry's new repulsor engines."

Tony's eyes went wide.

"The new long range precision guns slated for install can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute," Fury went on. "The satellites can read a terrorist's DNA before he steps outside his spider hole. We'll be able to neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen."

Steve frowned. "I thought punishment came after the crime."

"We can't afford to wait that long," said Fury. "After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once, we were going to be ahead of the curve."

"By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection," Steve growled.

Fury narrowed his one eye. "You know, I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some nasty stuff."

"Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free," Steve nailed Fury with a piercing glare. "This isn't freedom, this is fear."

There was a tense beat.

"So why try to kill you?" Steve asked.

"I smelled a rat with Insight's targeting algorithm. Asked Secretary Pierce to vote for a delay so I can get to the bottom of it." The line of Fury's lips hardened. "I don't believe in coincidences."

Steve nodded once. "What's gonna happen to our meeting?"

"What meeting? I was declared dead. Can't kill or meet me if I'm dead." Fury then showed them a hologram featuring a wrinkled old white man wearing a conservative three-piece gray suit and a red tie done in a perfect Windsor knot. "Alexander Pierce. Secretary of World Security Council. Old friend. He's gonna summon you for questions."

"Friend or foe?"

"He declined the Nobel Peace Prize. Said, 'Peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility.' But then this happened." Fury grimaced. "See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues."

There was another tense beat.

"How launch-ready are the carriers?" said Natasha.

"Everything but the new repulsor engines is ready," said Hill. "The old engines are still in place. All fully functional. They can launch any day."

"We need to stop any possibility of a launch," Steve turned to the X-Men. "I won't tell you what to do, I haven't the right. But if you get involved in this, it gonna make things even more difficult for your people."

Logan shifted the cigar clamped between his teeth and shrugged. "Didn't come here expecting things to get better, bub. Nice to know who I'm fighting, actually."

"Right," said Steve, smiling wryly. "Back to stopping the carriers… Shadowcat, when you phase through circuits, it shorts them beyond all hope of recovery, correct?"

"Don't remind me what happened to my portable suit," Tony grumbled.

Shadowcat—Kitty Pryde—nodded savagely. "Leave it to me, Cap. Just point us where to go."

"They won't leave us much to salvage," said Fury.

"We're not salvaging anything," Steve retorted. "We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick, we're taking down SHIELD."

"SHIELD had nothing to do with it."

"You made me Commander, and this is my call," Steve leveled a glare at Fury. "SHIELD's been compromised. You know this, Nick. Hydra was right under your nose and nobody noticed."

"Why do you think we're meeting? I noticed."

"And how many paid the price before you did?"

"Look, I didn't know about Xavier Institute."

"Even if you have, would you have told me?" Steve argued. "Zola was with SHIELD since the beginning. Seventy years. SHIELD, Hydra, it all goes."

"He's right," said Hill.

Fury glared at his other two agents. Natasha raised an eyebrow and Clint shrugged.

At length, Nick Fury sighed.

"Well ... Looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain."

oooo

"So why do you need help with POWs?" Sam asked later.

Steve hesitated before answering:

"The sniper team that attacked Xavier's school… they were my old teammates. Willie Burnside and Jack Monroe."

Everyone turned to stare at Steve. Sam covered his mouth and winced. "Well sh!t."

"Yeah," Steve murmured.

Bruce was about to ask how Steve knew the spotter was Jack Monroe, but then remembered Steve's acute sense of smell. _It's like being pregnant all the time_ , Steve had once said on a Live Q&A. Also: _I have a deep appreciation of the world dogs must inhabit_ , Steve told Pepper on one of their daily video conferences.

Dimly, Bruce had a sense he knew who Metal Arm was. But that was impossible. He still had doubts about whether the snipers were Burnside and Monroe. They were only plausible because they'd gone AWOL, and their deaths hadn't been confirmed. Besides, everyone else in the old team Captain America were…

"So the question is: how can I save him, if it's even possible," said Steve.

"He didn't recognize you," Logan stated.

"No."

"Then whatever Hydra did to him, might've completely destroyed who he used to be. He may never recover. I'm just saying."

Steve turned stricken. "But I can't just…"

"He might not give you the choice," said Logan bluntly.

Steve said nothing.

"That doesn't mean we _have_ to take him down," said Kitty carefully. "I mean, between the thirteen of us, we might be able to incapacitate him? Then see if Professor X can," she wiggled her fingers next to her head.

"Fourteen," Sam corrected. "Count me in."

Steve stared at him. Sam took out a photo from his inner jacket pocket and raised it so everyone can see.

"Is this Bakhmala?" said Natasha, studying the photo keenly. "The Khalid Khandil mission. That was you." To Steve, she said, "You didn't say he was a para-rescue."

"Is this Riley?" said Steve, pointing.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs," remarked Natasha. "What did you use, a stealth chute?"

"No. EXO-Falcon."

"Oh, I know that project," Tony piped. "Very Classified. Very experimental. SI built the prototype and did all the upgrades. Think I can get my hands on a beta. You're very welcome."

"Yeah, thanks, man," drawled Sam.

"I can't ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason," Steve protested.

Sam grinned. "Dude, Captain America needs my help. There's no better reason to get back in."

Steve studied him for a moment. Then a small smile tugged at the corners.

"Yay, teamwork and the power of friendship," said Tony, only half-mocking. "So we all storm the fortress tomorrow. No surprises who might be waiting for us there. Speaking of which, Steve. You're pretty sure the spotter was Jack Monroe. Any idea who the third one is?"

Steve's smile dimmed. Bruce could see the dread in Steve's eyes.

"I think I know him."

That was all Steve would say.

oooo

The X-Men and the Avengers spent the rest of the night conferring with Hill, Sharon Carter, and Fury on tactics. They agreed to a three-prong attack: 1) neutralize all three carriers, 2) identify and incapacitate Hydra-compromised SHIELD agents, and 3) make Project Insight and its target list public, thus expose Hydra.

Steve, it turned out, had done much of the work for item 2). Since waking up in the twenty-first century under SHIELD custody, Steve had been sniffing out, often literally, who can be trusted.

"It's basic wartime strategy. Know potential friend from foe; trust but verify," Steve said while producing a notebook of full of names. "Nick, you were the worst. Even when you're telling the truth you stank like a liar. Anyway, this is just a guide. You'll need to do your own homework for agents I haven't met."

Hill reviewed the names and whistled.

Tony brushed away an imaginary tear. "Look at our baby, Bruce. All grown up and destroying Big Brother."

The next morning, the World Security Council summoned Steve to report to the Triskelion. Agent Sitwell, who delivered the message, empathically stated the orders pertained to Steve only.

"I'm going, too, and you can't stop me," said Bruce, just as empathically.

"I can go alone," said Steve.

"Oh, I have no doubt," Bruce agreed. "Thing is, you don't have to."

Steve didn't reply, but the unshed tears said everything.

Steve refused to board SHIELD's armored car and told Sitwell to expect them on site. Once the agents left, Steve shrunk to Optimal Mode and dressed accordingly.

Sam, who witnessed the transformation without any warning, poor guy, stared at Skinny-Steve for a long time. Then he looked at the Avengers with a mute plea. Bruce didn't have the heart to tell him the options: pre-teen boy or barely-legal girl.

Tony patted Sam's shoulder. "This is why my issues have issues."

Bruce rode on the back of Steve's motorcycle. As soon as they entered the Triskelion, a thunderstorm only the craziest and most foolish pilot would dare to brave roiled the skies. Bruce assumed Thor had summoned it. He further assumed the X-Men were making their way to the secret underground facility that housed the three upgraded helicarriers.

Sitwell led them to an office on the top floor. The door opened and revealed Alexander Pierce.

"Ah, Captain, Dr. Banner," he said. "I'm Alexander Pierce."

"Sir," said Steve.

They shook hands. Pierce said, "It's an honor to finally meet you, Captain. My father served in the 101st. Come on in."

Steve and Bruce entered a sleek office that had a wall of glass, holo screens, and metal and gray leather furniture. Steve stood at parade rest, and Bruce slouched with his hands threaded above his stomach.

Pierce displayed an old photo of Fury and himself.

"That photo was taken five years after Nick and I met," Pierce explained. "When I was at State Department in Bogota. ELN rebels took the embassy, and security got me out, but the rebels took hostages. Nick was deputy chief for the SHIELD station there. And he comes to me with a plan. He wants to storm the building through the sewers. I said, 'No, we'll negotiate.' Turned out the ELN didn't negotiate, so they put out a kill order. They stormed the basement, and what did they find? They find it empty. Nick had ignored my direct order and carried out an unauthorized military operation on foreign soil. He saved the lives of a dozen political officers, including my daughter."

"So you gave him a promotion," said Steve.

"I've never had any cause to regret it," said Pierce. "Men like Nick Fury are hard to come by. His death is a great loss. Thankfully, we have you."

Steve's eyebrows shot up. Smirking, Pierce pointed at a holo screen, and three middle-aged suits of different nationalities appeared. Bruce could smell politician from them.

"The World Security Council and I are in one accord," said Pierce. "We want you to lead SHIELD, Commander Rogers."

Bruce was stunned.

… _WHAT?!_  he wanted to squawk.

"I'm sorry," said Steve, eyebrows rising higher. "But shouldn't the priority go to sub-director Hill?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes," said one of the councilpersons. "But these are not normal circumstances. Not even remotely. Besides, you must've noticed the late Colonel Fury was preparing you for leadership."

Steve said nothing.

"Now I have to admit, when Nick floated the idea, we weren't optimistic, if not downright skeptical," Pierce said. "But you've succeeded beyond our wildest expectations. In every area, you proved yourself worthy of your legend. In tactics, you defeated even Nick in his own game. All said we couldn't think of anyone better. Do you accept, Commander?"

Steve didn't reply.

Bruce himself was troubled at the turn of events. The idea of Steve leading a Hydra-infected SHIELD, working for them essentially, was repulsive at a visceral level. But if Steve took leadership, they could possibly clean up SHIELD without much bloodshed.

Steve drew in a breath.

"I must refuse."

Pierce frowned. "Why?"

"Because neither SHIELD nor you are what you claim to be."

Then Steve activated the hacking device Tony gave them and took over the SHIELD intercom.

"Attention, all SHIELD agents. This is Captain America speaking. I think it's time you know the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was, it's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want: absolute control. They shot Nick Fury and it won't end there. I'm posting Insight's target list and algorithm on Reddit as I speak. Don't be surprised if you find your own name."

On cue, one of the holo screens displayed the hundred million names Nick was able to hack out from Project Insight's data mining programming.

"Even if you aren't a target, if you launch the Helicarriers, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way," Steve continued. "Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high. It always has been, and it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not."

A breathless pause followed Steve's speech. Bruce couldn't interpret Pierce's expression, but panicked was not one them.

"You smug son of a bitch," growled one of the councilmembers to Pierce, at last. He turned to the two SHIELD agents entering the office. "Arrest him!"

The two agents disconnected the councilmembers instead. Next second, they were both unconscious on the floor with Steve standing over them.

"You're making the wrong choice, Captain," said Pierce. "If you dump Project Insight on the Internet, everyone will know the secrets you wanted to keep hidden. Are you ready for the world to know you as you really are?"

"I only kept it a secret to protect the least of us," Steve snapped, and Bruce's jaw dropped. "I would've even let you re-write my past if it meant they'd be spared. But that would've been playing into your hands."

"Everything we did, we did to eliminate the things that threaten the world," Pierce retorted. "Let me ask you a question. What if a group from Pakistan was going to plant a dirty bomb in Brooklyn tomorrow, and you knew that they were going to detonate when it's full of children? And you could just stop it with a flick of a switch. Wouldn't you?"

"No. And that's the clincher, isn't it?" Steve thundered. "If Bruce hadn't taken me in, I would've had no choice but rely on you. And you would've stolen my name, my past… everything that makes me who I am, you'd've carved it out, and then reshape me to your own image. Someone who'd click your damn switch without a second thought."

Bruce stared. Steve's face was transforming; turning, he suspected, to the person Steve use to be. The truly pre-serum Steve.

And at that moment, he saw a glimpse of the truth he so ardently wished to know.

 _Steve, if you met more than one requirement for an American Infantry Soldier back in 1942, I'll eat my shoes,_ Bruce thought. Meanwhile, Steve was still shouting.

"Isn't that what you and Hydra did to Willie?! To Jack, and…"

The office door opened again, and a much larger group of agents marched in. Leading the posse was Metal Arm. He wasn't wearing a mask.

Bruce recognized his face. So did Steve.

" _Bucky_ ," Steve rasped.

The Winter Soldier—Bucky Barnes—frowned.

" _Who the hell is Bucky_?"

The look on Steve's face … the shock, the despair, the gut-wrenching agony… Bruce knew without a shadow of a doubt Steve could not and would not fight back.

"I'm so sorry Steve," Bruce murmured, as he unleashed his burbling anger, "But I can't let him hurt you."

Then all went black.

oooo

When Bruce came to, he heard AC/DC competing against Marvin Gaye's _Trouble Man_.

"Really, Tony?" he grumbled.

"No dissing my jams, heathen," Tony retorted.

Bruce looked around. He was in a hospital bed. To his left, Steve was sleeping fretfully, but none worst to wear.

"You did good," said Tony. "You didn't kill anyone. Not even the Winter Soldier, metal arm version, though the Green Guy tried really hard."

Bruce noted the lack of Jack Monroe and sighed heavily through his nose. "What else?"

"Pierce is dead, the X-Men broke all the helicarriers and left without getting caught, SHIELD disbanded, and we have hundreds of talented recruits for Aegis. Dr. Fernando is one of them. The House and Senate called for a hearing. How are we supposed to do national security when you've laid one of the core apparatus to waste, they complained. You have that thing called CIA and DOD, don't you? I told them. So they threatened, and Romanoff dared them to do their worst. Not that they would, since, you know, they need us. I quote: _Yes, the world is a vulnerable place, and yes, we helped make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it._ We walked away scot-free. Meanwhile, the Internet broke itself."

"Found anything?"

"Not all the rats went down with the ship. Fury is off to Europe," Tony turned grim. "There are Hydra strongholds all over the world. We need to clean up."

"Avengers Assemble?"

"As soon as Steve calls it."

Tony left soon after. Bruce stared at the ceiling for a beat and then asked: "Are you really sleeping?"

"Not really," Steve replied.

Bruce raised himself up and Steve's eyes opened. They looked at each for a long time.

"So, uh, I saw your face," Bruce mumbled.

Steve shrugged, "I wanted you to see. I don't think I can do it again."

Bruce nodded. Waited.

"The thing I forgot … was my name. From before," said Steve softly.

 _Significant Moments; things that shape your identity_ , Bruce recalled as he nodded again.

"What was it?"

"Stephen," at the look on Bruce's face, Steve grinned. "No really. My Ma named me so on purpose. Germany wasn't the first nation that tried to systemically cull out undesirables, you know. When I was growing up, you could see posters saying: 'There are those who by nature are burdens of society.' If you got classified as an "imbecile", they took you away and locked you up, never to return." A pause. "Ma always said no one has the right to say someone else doesn't have the right to live, except maybe murderers. She also said I can call myself whatever I wanted after I got married."

 _The things you don't know_ , Bruce thought bleakly.

"So what is the real story behind you and Barnes?" Bruce asked. "I mean if your history as Steve Rogers is all made up, then…"

"Most of it is based on truth," said Steve. "We did grow up together in Brooklyn. I did trek forty miles alone in enemy territory to Zola's lab because Bucky was my best friend. I tried to hide who I was after. SSR sent Buck a letter that said I died of TB. It would've worked, except I'm a terrible actor, and Bucky's always been sharp."

"How did he react?"

"There was a lot of angry shouting. He only quieted down when the Brass threatened to send him back with a blue slip."

Bruce had no idea what a blue slip was, but he could guess it was nothing good.

"You're going to go after him, aren't you?"

"You don't have to follow me."

"I can ground you. So when are we gonna start? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Final Note** : Thus ends the Winter Soldier Arc and possibly CWCI. I'll probably post outtakes and things that didn't make the final cut here in AO3. As much as I wanted to put more Bucky in this, the POV didn't give me much leeway. Ah well. Hope you enjoyed nevertheless!
> 
>  _Rogue's mutant abilities_ : closer to comic-canon than movie canon, I think. Rogue in the X-Men movies killed with touch as well as absorb other mutant abilities.
> 
>  _Blue Slip_ : if memory serves, this form of not-honorable discharge was given to soldiers accused of engaging in homosexual acts. It was never stated as such, but everyone knew what it meant.
> 
>  _Eugenics in America_ : A real thing in the 1920's. Those who were classified as "imbeciles" were taken to the Virginia State Colony for Epileptics and Feebleminded, and were routinely sterilized. They had "Better Babies" contests. The whole sordid history you can read in _The Gene: an Intimate History_ , by Siddhartha Mukherjee.
> 
> Cheers! BOC  
> [booksofchange.com](http://www.booksofchange.com)


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